World So Cold
by xxRomanceGirlxx
Summary: Since the destruction of Sunnydale, Buffy is now leading an army of slayers. Meanwhile, hunters Sam and Dean work to close the gates of Hell. A new threat emerges and in a twist of fate, Buffy is transported to their universe, thrust in a strange world's apocalypse ... and a even stranger bond with a certain Winchester. Buffy/Dean. SPN S8/Post-BtVS. Full Summary Inside.
1. Chapter 1: Brave New World

**World So Cold**

 **Full Summary:** Three years have passed since the destruction of Sunnydale. Buffy is now a leader of an army of slayers, guiding them to protect mankind. Times are peaceful, but Buffy—plagued by loss and disconnection—can do all she can to hide her inner demons. Meanwhile, in a very different world, hunters Sam and Dean are knee-deep in angels and demons as they try to close the Gates of Hell. But priorities soon shift when a new threat emerges ... the likes of which the brothers have never seen. When a strange blonde with a funny name appears, the two can only guess where it leads. Mysteriously torn away from her home, Buffy is thrown into a strange world's apocalypse ... and an even stranger bond with a certain Winchester.

 **Main Pairing:** Eventual Buffy/Dean. I used to never give this crossover ship much thought, but while comparing the two shows I realized how much potential a love story between these two could have. They're so much alike and would be able to understand each other so well. It's a shame it's crack because if they did meet, they'd be a perfect fit for each other. My favorite crossover ship, definitely! ;)

 **Timeline:** Mid-Season Eight of Supernatural, picking up after **_"Everybody Hates Hitler"_** and veering off from there. Post-BtVS.

 **Disclaimer:** **All rights go to Joss Whedon and Eric Kripke. This is just a "what-if" story for entertainment. If I had even partial power, then most of this "season" would probably happen.**

 **A/N:** I love both Buffy and Supernatural. Dean, Sam, and Buffy are by far IMO some of the most well-written heroes in TV history so a blend between both shows seems like a match made in Heaven. This story is more than just a Dean/Buffy love story though. Buffy and especially Supernatural have never been just about love. It's also about what makes both shows so amazing: responsibility, sacrifice, flawed heroes, and the struggle between good and evil. It's going to be emotional and plays a lot on the characters' inner demons, a lot like the real seasons. I guess that's why I'm so fond of this story. :)

 _ **I really appreciate any kind of major OCC thoughts, especially for the SPN characters. It's the first time I've ever written them and I'd like to nail their characters and voice as well as I can the Buffyverse ones. Thanks! :)**_

* * *

 _Brave New World_

~~Buffy~~

Air lashed against Buffy Summers' entire body as she freefell, thoughts drowned out by the wind flying past her and the repetitive buzzing of the helicopter. Slayers Bailie and Satsu were not far behind, plummeting down towards the gray dot below. The dot rapidly grew more distinct, sharpening into the unmistakable pillars surrounding Warwickshire Castle.

Detaching the safety rope, Buffy hit the rooftop. More unhooking and thuds followed, telling her the other two kept up. The blonde slayer looked up at the helicopter, still hovering above.

 _Thank god for funding a quick travel fix._ She thought. Even after two years using helicopters, it was still a strange feeling. Buffy went from barely getting out of one town to travelling across Europe in only a few short months.

"Situation secure, ma'am." Satsu's business-like voice spoke, drawing her attention. Just like Buffy, she was decked out in armor plate with a holster strapped to her side, and military combat boots. "I just got word from HQ. All the cameras are overridden."

Buffy glanced at the Japanese slayer. Satsu had been one of the first slayers they found after the destruction of Sunnydale. Even though she was born in Tokyo, she had spoken almost perfect English. After nearly three years, her accent was faint. Satsu had picked up on slayer instincts almost instantly and showed promise of leadership skills. Buffy couldn't deny she had become one of her favorites.

The blonde nodded solemnly. "Good. We don't need a giant, boily _Cujo_ thing drawing anymore tourist attraction." Buffy turned her attention to her earpiece. "Xander. We just crash landed on the rooftop. You sure this is the place?"

 _"Yup. According to our resource team, Poriggo Hounds been having some murderous, doggy dog fun with the local tourists. Last one was seen going into the castle."_

 _Always gotta look for attention._ Buffy thought in displeasure. What was it with monsters and invading public places? A huge, hairless dog covered with boils snacking on the tourists was the last publicity from the supernatural world _any_ of them needed. At least according the Satsu, the security was out of commission.

"How do we get inside?" Buffy asked.

 _"Should be a hatch below right in front of you."_ Xander told her.

Buffy looked around. On the far right, she found a steel handle jutting out of a wooden square. Securing her freeze blaster to her hip (yes, you heard that right; get a couple nerds and witches together and you'll find anything can happen), Buffy gestured to Bailie and Satsu. "Found it." She muttered, heading over.

As the blonde slayer bent down, Baillie sighed. "I haven't visited Warwickshire Castle since I was girl. Any chance we can stick around, snatch a few mementos?" The brunette asked hopefully, a wistfulness to her expression.

Buffy started to pry the hatch open. "The only _'memento'_ we're getting is demon goo. We need to high-tail and get the hell outta here." She answered briskly. She knew Baillie was British and this trip to England must've been nostalgic for her, but it couldn't be helped.

"Can't draw the attention. Poriggo Hounds have done enough of that." As usual, Buffy could count on Satsu to fill in the blanks and explain for her.

"Yeah, yeah." The other slayer relented, sounding a bit disappointed. She kneeled down beside Buffy, Satsu following suit. "Let's just put this bloody mutt down." She said, her green eyes hard with determination.

Baillie was a unique slayer in her own right as well. She was tall and slender, not as handy with a weapon as Satsu but definitely faster. Helped that she had been on a track team in college. Her hair was short and sleek, cut in an almost perfect straight line just above her shoulders. Her bangs were bowl-cut, but her sharply-angled face gave her a hardened profile.

"Okay, ladies. Time to for a quick in and out the rabbit hole." Buffy deadpanned.

Satsu pumped her freeze blaster. "Ready, ma'am."

 _I am never going to get used to hearing that._ With that thought, Buffy leaped down the hatch legs first. It was a longer way down than anticipated, but she managed to land as noiselessly as possible into a hall. Satsu and Baillie followed, one of them thankfully closing the hatch as they went to make it look undisturbed.

The slayers kept to the shadows, maneuvering their way deep into the castle as quietly as their preternatural stealth could allow. Buffy knew immediately something was wrong when she saw not a single batch of tourists. The castle seemed entirely silent, betraying hardly any life. The quiet was nearly deafening.

"It's quiet." Baillie whispered, echoing her thoughts.

Buffy grimaced. " _Too_ quiet."

They crossed many hallways and passed huge rooms. If it hadn't been such a serious situation, Buffy probably would've whipped out her camera and gawked like an idiot at the extravagance. Frankly, the castle was so huge Buffy doubted they had made it through nearly half. When they dived behind knight armor put on display without still seeing any human life, it was then their blonde "general" felt truly unsettled.

Satsu was peering out cautiously, biting her lip. "Can't see a single thing."

In true karma fashion, they hadn't gone any more than one more hallway when screams and inhuman snarls ripped through the air. The sudden change from eerie quiet to sounds of absolute terror and panic was so abrupt Buffy nearly lost all her careful composure. "Can definitely _hear_ something though." She said grimly.

Baillie smiled at Satsu ruefully. "Just had to go and jinx it, eh Satsu?"

Their general in the lead, the slayers bolted to the mayhem. Buffy kicked open the wooden double-doors, pulling out her freeze blaster instantaneously. Four tourists were cowering as a monstrous Poriggo Hound closed in. It was nearly as tall as the ceiling and vaguely resembled a Rottweiler with mange. That is, if mange was at it's full term and instead of just skin, it was saturated with boils.

Acidic, lava-like slobbered dangled from it's jaws, pooling near it's paws as it made the air thick and more difficult to breath in. He snarled thunderously, it's huge paws nearly shaking the floor. The victims were helpless, screaming and either desperately trying to escape or getting caught up on the chaotic pandemonium.

Buffy's expression steeled. "Flank 'em."

Not sparing a glance at her subordinates, she charged. Buffy shot her freeze blaster, hitting the demon straight in the shoulder. The Porrigo swiveled it's body in a snarl. Baillie and Satsu were like her shadow, shooting their blasters as Buffy dived in front of the monster, snatching the tourist and rolling out of the way. Immediately the other tourists ran out, wailing and screaming in a wild crescendo that was only deafened by the blood pounding in the slayer's ears.

Buffy looked briefly at the person she saved: a middle-aged, slightly portly man. "T-T-T-that thing. I-It came out from the cellar. I-It ate this poor woman and k-killed ... I don't know what, how ...!" His hysteria tripped over his explanation, eyes frozen in wide-eyed terror behind her at the slayers assaulting the Porrigo.

Buffy shoved the man towards the doors, refusing to let his man's panic freeze him and make him stupid. "If you wanna live, get out of here." The blonde slayer said sharply.

The tourist was propelled to his feet, stumbling around but not losing his footing. Without any pause and only one wild-eyed stare at her over his shoulder, he ran out the room as if a thousand demons were on his tail.

Buffy thrust herself into the fight. She hit the demon dog powerfully in the side with the butt of her freeze blaster, dodging it's razor-sharp claws as it tried to lop her head off. Baillie clung onto it's back, her sword embedded deeply in and twisting for good measure. Buffy kicked it forcefully in the side. Satsu blasted the Poriggo across the face, earning a snarl of profound pain and rage as the ice canceled out the dangerous lava slobber the demon created. It shattered on the floor, completely ice.

The sudden influx of freeze blaster was not just a new toy for everyone to play with, though it had been easy for some slayers to get caught up in it's novelty. Porriggo Hounds had incredibly high body temperatures. They practically thrived on heat, the lava-like drool that would ooze out of their mouths another prime example of that. Exposure to ice weakened and even hurt them.

Baillie was stabbing the monster repeatedly in the back. The infuriated Porriggo tried to shake the British slayer off, but Baillie was tenacious and used her slayer strength for good measure, digging it in deeper.

Switching out her blaster with a sword, Buffy moved in and out, taking fluid strikes at the demon's sides and anything else before backing off only to continue the process all over again. The Poriggo Hound's movements were slowing. It was oozing green blood nearly all over the place and it's boiled skin was crisscrossed with wounds.

Satsu had a direct hit for a freeze blaster to the mouth, but acted too quickly. The monster's claws raked the Asian slayer's side in a blur. Satsu yelped in pain, losing her composure as she stumbled and grabbed her side in a moment of weakness. The Porrigo Hound lunged furiously, it's jaws of death heading towards the disoriented slayer.

" _Satsu!_ "

Horrified, Buffy dived for her comrade. Sharp, stinging pain lanced somewhere as the blonde grabbed the other slayer and kicked the Porrigo Hound forcefully in the face. The demon whined in pain, unbalanced on it's paws and shaking it's head vigorously. Buffy and Satsu collided into the stone wall, the blow having enough power to knock the wind from them.

Blinking water from her eyes, the blonde slayer regrouped herself. "You okay?"

Satsu was looking at her general in a mixture of shame and guilt, but all she did was nod. The demon was soon trundling towards them despite Baillie's best efforts. Buffy and Satsu went back into the fight.

Buffy dodged another bout of snarling teeth yet again too close for comfort, realizing with an annoyed start that both her and Satsu lost their blasters and her sword somewhere during their last clash. The small blonde beat the demon off with a roundhouse kick, giving her just enough time to grab a jagged wood plank dislodged from the floor.

As Satsu found her freeze blaster and renewed her assault, Buffy dashed forward and stabbed the Poriggo with the plank, cutting clean through it's throat just as Baillie from her place on it's shoulders embedded her sword in it's neck. The demon howled deafeningly. It teetered, then fell to the floor dead, choking on it's own blood.

Buffy ripped out the plank, it's sharp end covered in green goo. "Porrigo, meet Dogwood." She deadpanned, twirling the piece of wood in her hands once before casually throwing it.

Baillie slid down the demon's body. "Good thing I'm more of a cat person."

Satsu stepped towards her hesitantly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Ma'am ... your arm ..." The Japanese slayer began. The blonde looked to where Satsu's eyes were directed at and saw a bloodied gash across the top of her right arm, tinged with purple around it. Instant alarm shot through Buffy, but after a more scrutinizing look she relaxed.

"Oh my god, Buffy. Did you get bit?!" Satsu blurted out in sudden panic before Buffy could say anything, grabbing her wrist for a better view.

Baillie's face went pale. "But Porrigo Hounds bites are fatal, aren't they?!"

"Guys—"

"I'm so sorry, Buffy! You got bit saving me, didn't you?" Satsu looked devastated, her brown eyes pools of guilt. "It's all my fault! I—"

" _Hey!_ Not my funeral, people!" Buffy snapped at last, pulling her arm out of Satsu's grasp. "The poison only works it's way in through a _deep_ bite. This one's barely a graze." She explained matter-of-factly. The blonde rubbed her gash gingerly. "Looks like _some_ of you need to brush up on your demonology." She muttered.

Satsu still didn't seem comforted. "But I still could've done better. That could've killed you."

"You're one of the best slayers the Slayer Organization has, Satsu. Even the experts can make mistakes." Buffy said steadily.

Slayer Organization. Two years since the name for eight hundred slayers getting called was officially penned and it still felt unreal. It hadn't been overnight. The first year Buffy and her friends had spent it just gathering the new slayers, explaining to them who and what they were and how to control their power. Only five hundred slayers had been recruited by the end of that year. Eventually it expanded, finding more allies and resources, developing into a weird, pseudo-military operation somehow ending with Buffy as their commander.

Oh yeah. It was a far-cry from her small-town California days where all she had to do was hang out with the Scooby Gang and do a few nightly rounds patrolling.

Buffy stepped carefully around the debris, stopping at the foot of three bodies on the far side of the room. It was a woman and man, the man being badly mangled and the woman with her throat ripped out. While they had saved at least four tourists, they hadn't gotten here in time to save all of them.

She felt her slayers hovering behind her. Baillie was shaking her head, her fingers to her chin as she looked at the sight sadly. "At least we saved 'em from becoming puppy chow." The slender brunette offered weakly.

"Ma'am!"

"We're here for back-up!"

Stirred out of her thoughts, Buffy turned around. A squad of three more of her slayers—Leah, Rowena, and Tammy—were coming her way, geared up in their slayer armor and weapons (including freeze blasters), looking excited, ready to fight and filled with remarkable raw enthusiasm.

Satsu watched them with a slight frown, scratching the back of her head uncomfortably. "Sorry, guys. Fido's already put down."

Baillie managed to offer a smirk. "Rascally bugger. Shame you missed it."

Leah, a New Yorker and a tomboy, scowled. "Are you kidding? We've been looking to kill those sons-of-bitchin' mutts since Xander and Giles got info on their breeding grounds. They're damn near _everywhere_." She protested. Her short, dirty blonde hair was pulled back in pigtails, complemented by a bandana on her head.

"Good thing there isn't a shortage then. 'Cause I got a job for you to do." Buffy walked over to them, crossing her arms."Leah, Rowena, Tammy, I want your squad to patrol around the area. More than one of these Poriggoes have been lurking around here and I'd like it to be cleaned up." The blonde's green stare intensified. "More importantly, _don't_ draw any more attention than you have to. You know why."

Solemnness gathered in her girls' faces. Truly, Buffy did not need to say why.

After a couple "Yes, ma'ams" and "We'll be right on it"s, her back-up squad turned and walked purposely away. Even with the urgency of the situation, she could sense how they eager were in testing their slater skills.

Good for them.

"What about us, ma'am?" Satsu asked.

Buffy turned around, her gaze sweeping over the last two expectant slayers thoughtfully. She supposed if she really wanted to, she could send them with the other unit to flush out the rest of the Poriggoes in England, but the blonde slayer still wasn't sure if she wanted to exert them more. She took one look on the wound on Satsu's side and made a decision.

"Baillie, go with the other unit for the Poriggo Hounds. Help them. Satsu, you're staying with me. You need a little more time on the mend." Buffy ordered evenly.

Baillie dipped her head politely. "Of course, ma'am."

While the British slayer made her way down the hallway, Satsu was looking at Buffy uncomfortably. She shook her head, doing a crossing gesture with her arms. "Ma'am, if this about that gash in my side, it's not bad. I heal just as fast as any slayer. I can still go out on a patrol if you want me—"

"I need you for something else." Buffy interrupted without faltering. "You're the one that's been out of the field the most when the Poriggo Hounds first went _Mogwai_ on us. You know the terrain and you know where to find them. That's _why_ I need you back at HQ. To help Xander and the rest of our resource team."

It wasn't a lie really. Satsu knew better than most of the new slayers to identify breeding spots of demons, nearly as well as fought them. However, Buffy could not risk throwing an injured slayer back in the game so soon. Maybe in a day or two, but not now. She was certain with the new set-up they had in technology and tracking, she'd be a great help while she recovered.

Satsu still looked a bit protesting, but after a moment clearly thought better of arguing with her general. She sighed. "Right, finding their breeding spots across the world. Got it down pat, ma'am." She replied reluctantly. Holding her wounded side gingerly, the Japanese slayer trudged over down hallway.

Buffy did not follow after. She watched distantly, a weight in her stomach. It was hard to imagine how she had ended up here, leading an army of slayers. While so many of these girls buzzed with purpose because of what she had done, to Buffy it felt as if it had been an act of someone else. Like she was watching a movie. None of it felt ... _real_.

Buffy sighed. Like everything in her life that _didn't_ involve slaying monsters, she _really_ didn't know what the hell she was doing. Leading an army of a nearly thousand girls? Becoming their general, a cuter and more charming Ellen Ripley? _Really_? How could she, in any capacity, know if she was even doing _that_ right? It wasn't like she had a set _standard_ to aim for.

Three years. Three years of gathering slayers, recruiting them, training them, and making a base of operations. At least two years of apocalyptic-free peace and you'd think it'd make the rest of that easier. It didn't. The worst part was even when she motivated these girls to fight and be strong in this, inside _nothing_ felt right. Sudden searing pain stabbed her heart and Buffy's face crumbled, just for a moment.

 _No_. Nothing was right _at all_.

With one last glance at the dead Poriggo Hound, Buffy sighed. "Home, sweet home." She said to herself tiredly, picking her way down the hallway.

* * *

~~Dean~~

Dean Winchester stood in the hallway, his arms half over the staircase railing as he overlooked the Men of Letters bunker. His mouth was set in a tense, grim line as he listened to the person talking on the phone. It was the information he had expected the minute he called yet somehow still got to him.

"So ... still nada on that demon tablet." Dean summed up after a beat, trying to sound casual.

 _"I've been working nonstop. Nothing's come out right."_ Kevin Tran's matter-of-fact, partially apologetic voice responded.

"Ah." The hunter answered lamely, keeping his reaction controlled. Dean took a moment to let that sink in. Finally the inconvenience got the better of him. " _Really?_ Not even a squiggle?" He burst out, unable to keep out the impatience in his voice.

 _"I'm working on it."_ The prophet answered a bit tightly.

Dean couldn't fight back the disappointment. "Come on, man. You've been holed up in Garth's boat for what, a month by now? It's not like _Crowley's_ still breathing over your shoulder." He argued incredulously.

 _"Yeah, and I still only have half of the tablet, remember?"_ Kevin replied pointedly.

The Winchester's eyes widened. He straightened, his entire body tensing. "Wait a minute. You're not saying ... you didn't lose the part on _closing the_ _Gates of Hell_ , did you?"

 _"I don't know. Haven't got that far to figure that out yet."_ Kevin answered honestly. _"I'm just saying it's putting us behind schedule. Maybe messes up some of the translations."_

"Awesome." Dean grumbled with a roll of his eyes, cursing every single thing in that last confrontation with Crowley that lead to that tablet splitting in two.

 _"I'll keep trying to translate. Hopefully something sticks."_ The prophet promised. _"Should be easier this time. Garth's out of town so maybe I'll be able to focus."_

The hunter paused only briefly, weighing if he should even say anything, but morbid curiosity won out. "Where's Garth?" Dean asked, certain there's a good chance he'd regret the question. The eccentric hunter, though technically their friend, was still hard to swallow at times.

 _"Started out saying something about a hunt, ended on going to a Rascal Flatts concert. I don't know."_ He recapped in disinterest.

Dean made a face at Rascal Flatts. _Yep. Definitely regret_ that _question._ "Hey, you sure staying with Garth hasn't knocked a couple of your screws loose? Scuffing up that prophet edge? The guy's a little ... if you know what I mean." The Winchester said with a straight face, whistling the sound of a cuckoo clock as he did the crazy gesture.

 _"I can still do it."_ Kevin sounded unimpressed with his humor. Dean smirked. _"I find anything, I'll call you. But no more_ pressure _."_ He told him more meaningfully.

Sobering now, the hunter nodded. "Hit us up when you got it." He said simply.

Hanging up, Dean just stood by the railing, staring at the phone thoughtfully. He couldn't blame Kevin for still coming up empty. The kid was obviously trying and they were asking a lot from him. He still couldn't help but be irritated though. They had their _one_ key of getting rid of these demons and not only was there no guarantee they even had the right information, they were making no progress at all.

Dean could not say he was renowned for his patience. He could say even less he was type to stand around and do nothing. _We gotta do something. Can't be Kevin yet so it's gotta be us._ He thought determinedly, expression hardening. Kevin wasn't going to be the one to carry all of them.

Pushing off the railing, Dean went downstairs. His brother Sam was sitting in the study, reading something on his laptop. He raised his head as he noticed Dean approach. "Hey. Anything from Kevin?"

Dean sat down in front of him with a sigh. "No dice. Kid's all strung out from half a tablet. Thinks it's affecting the translations."

" _Affecting_ the translations?" Sam repeated, frowning. "You mean like, not having the know-how on closing the gates? _Crowley_ has it?"

"Who the hell knows." His older brother said with feeling, shaking his head. "Tell you what we do know. If Crowley's got that piece, we ain't getting anywhere. So we gotta get it back." Dean reasoned firmly, the look on his face serious.

Sam scoffed, looking skeptical. "How? We don't even know where Crowley _is_."

"So, what? We're just supposed to sit here with our thumbs up our asses? _Not_ happening." Dean said in disgust. He looked away thoughtfully, trying to think of a plan. "I say we go through his flunkies. Get those demonic _Goombas_ to talk."

"Crowley's not easy to find, Dean. And his demons aren't easy to talk." His younger brother reminded him. At Dean's stubborn look, he sighed and shook his head. "Look, if you really want to do this, we will. I'm just saying they're not going to exactly be chatterboxes on the location on the friggin' _King of Hell_."

The older hunter shrugged. "Worth a shot."

Sam was right, of course. Most demons were too terrified of Crowley to even think of betraying him, let alone give away his location. But if there was really a chance the other half of tablet containing how to close the gates was with Crowley, then risking it was better.

Sam gave him one more skeptical look and shook his head again. "Alright. I'll start looking up demon signs. Black smoke, black eyes, whatever." He relented as he turned his attention back to his computer, a partially amused smile on his face.

Dean gave a pleased smile. "Now you got it."

The brothers went to work. Silence passed as they sifted through various articles. Dean typed up searches relating to any black smoke or people with black eyes caught on film, but nothing came up and anything that did was obviously faked. Like Sam had said, Crowley was not the type to let his demons be sloppy. If he didn't want to be found, he would make sure he wasn't.

Rolling his eyes, Dean typed up a different search. He was truly scrounging at this point. He scrolled through up and down carelessly, bored. Then Dean stopped abruptly. Carefully scrolling back, the Winchester found what he nearly missed: an article headlined ' _Hurricane Dorian, London Still In Recovery'._

Morbidly curious, he pulled it up. "Hey, Sam, look at this." He called to his brother, not looking up. Dean read through it quickly. " 'Last year, Hurricane Dorian devastates London, causing about 90 million in damages and taking over a few thousand lives' ..." He leaned back in his chair as it sunk in. "Wow. Bet _Nat Geo_ got their paws on that."

"Hurricane Dorian? _Yeah_." Sam agreed meaningfully. "That was all over the news for months. Poor people." He said sympathetically, shaking his head.

Dean studied his brother carefully. _Does he really not know what this is?_ He wondered. He leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table and looked at him seriously. "Sam, that was a demonic _omen_. You know, lightning storms, tornadoes, _hurricanes._ "I mean, I know you're a little rusty, but—"

"I know what it was, Dean." Sam responded, unfazed. His older brother stared in surprise. "A hurricane that bad, wasn't predicted, just popped up out of blue? Not even in Hurricane season? _Yeah_ , Dean. Even a retired hunter can connect the dots." He explained matter-of-factly, an edge to his voice.

Catching the use of the word _'retired'_ , Dean was in even more disbelief. "Wait. So, you knew about it when it happened?" He asked a bit incredulously. _And you still went skipping back to that white-picket fence?_ Dean nearly had to bite his own tongue to keep the accusatory question to his thoughts.

Sam shrugged. "It was all the way in another country, Dean. I'm sure their own hunters took care of it."

"And you weren't worried? Like _at all_?" Dean pressed a little sharply. At Sam's frustrated look, he threw up his hands. "Hey, I'm not saying we're the Winchester _Globe Trekkers_. Just that you get a big-ass nasty like that cooked up, it travels. Could've meant something bad for us." He explained reasonably.

Sam was tense. "It didn't."

"We know that?" Dean asked, his voice calm but his look meaningful.

" _Nothing_ happened, Dean! There was no more omens, and ... and life went on like it was." He replied defensively. He let out a breath to calm himself. "Look. You were in a Purgatory, I took a year off. And I get it, there were a lot of things I should've done back then ... but looking into that wasn't one of them." Sam said, his face hard.

 _Right, except the off-chance we're speed-starting into another apocalypse!_ Dean thought, once again angry at his brother's blasé attitude. There was never just one demonic omen after one _that_ deadly. He still remembered the unending lighting storm and tornado count in the years leading up to Lucifer springing out of his cage. Don't even get him started on how bad it was _after_.

 _Hold on, hold on ... you're judging. You promised yourself you wouldn't after that whole Amelia thing. Come on. Don't be a dick._ Dean caught himself, trying to erode away his disapproval. His brother sacrificed any chance of a normal life with Amelia to be beside him and devote everything to closing these gates. Dean respected that and felt for him. Underneath it all, he really did. Sam had messed up that year a lot no question, but that was supposed to be behind them. Even though he didn't look for him in Purgatory—

 _Don't. Be. A. Dick._ Dean thought again with more force, attempting to silence his traitorous feelings. He was _not_ going to think about Purgatory or how Sam hadn't even looked for him. That was No-man's land. It would completely wreck his new understanding, "let it die" approach.

" _I_ would've looked into it." Dean stated simply with a shrug. _Close enough._

Sam looked at him, several shades of defeat and frustration. He sighed and just turned back to his laptop. "Here. There's been dead bodies all across Novi, Michigan. There's a gang causing trouble. A witnesses claims she saw one of them with black eyes." He explained wearily.

Instant interest sparked in Dean. "A demon paling around with a bunch of _Mickey Cobras_?"

His younger brother shrugged, throwing out one hand. "Hey, y'know, if it takes us to Crowley ..."

"Then we're going _Gangland_." Dean finished, slapping his hand on his thigh in motivation. There was no guarantee they would find Crowley at the end of this, but it was still better than letting Kevin do all the work.

That demonic omen still concerned him, all the way across the world or not. He couldn't be sure what it meant, but what he was sure of was that a plan to get closer to Crowley and shutting down these gates was never bad. Dean justified he'll just worry about that omen later.

Shaking the thought off quickly, he shut down his laptop and stood up. "Alright. Let's go take a drive to Michigan."

"What about Cas?" Sam asked. Dean stiffened. "If we do find Crowley, he'd want to be there."

"After the way he acted in that weird slice-and-dice of Alfie a couples weeks ago?" He reminded Sam, skeptical. Castiel had wanted to save that angel so bad yet killed him anyway. Didn't make sense then, didn't make sense now. Dean shook his head and looked away. "Something's off with him, man. We can't risk him botching this up too." He decided, regretful but firm.

It made him guilty, feeling as if he couldn't trust Castiel. They've been through so much together, including Purgatory. He was nearly as much of a brother to Dean as Sam was. However, deep down he knew he had to be smart. Cas was hiding something and he'd be damned if he let him let anything else go sideways. When you get a lead on Crowley, you don't get it back.

"We could use the back-up, Dean." Sam pressed, his expression meaningful.

Dean hesitated. _Last time he helped get the demon tablet. Maybe we could use a do-over._ He considered thoughtfully. _Then again, he's also the reason the tablet split in the first place. Or he was there at least._ Dean thought immediately after, struggling to piece together his conflicting feelings.

The older Winchester grimaced. Finding no good answer to this, he chose the closest one. "Look, if we do find Crowley, we'll give Cas a dial. Until then we stick to the _Dynamic Duo._ We're heading out." Dean answered decisively, giving his brother a stern look.

Sam nodded, appearing to understand that decision. As his brother got ready, Dean headed towards his room for his weapons. Damnit if Cas was a headache that wasn't going away any time soon, but at least with a job and prospect of flushing out Crowley's demon ass, things were starting to look a little brighter.

* * *

~~Buffy~~

Buffy watched blankly as the huge flatscreen computer on the wall lit up with a map of the globe. Red dots blemished several continents, some bunched together in close quarters. The smaller computers on both sides of her, connected to the larger one, soon had the same image. This room was meant for the resource team, but the seats were empty. They had went out for lunch.

"So _Mirror-Mirror_ on the wall says Africa's got Poriggo love nests. Mostly Libya, Chad, and Algeria." Xander was recapping, holding his hands behind his back. He was dressed in a long-sleeved navy blue shirt and dark pants. "Oh, looks like India, Mexico, and Brazil too. Talk about Doggy _tribbles_." He said in disbelief, shaking his head.

Buffy, in one of the chairs and turned towards it, nodded. "These things are drawn to heat. Makes sense that's where they roost." She said, her hands holding her face under her chin. Catching where one of the dots were, her eyes widened. " _Please_ don't me tell that's Iraq." She groaned.

Xander glanced at where she was looking, then back at her. "If I don't, can I get something out of it?" He quipped.

Buffy groaned again, dropping her hands and leaning back in her chair. " _Great._ That's—that's just _great_. Nothing like fighting giant mutts to top it all off by getting shot it." She grumbled moodily.

"Come on, Buff. In terrain like that, I bet these things try for the 'aim low' approach too." Her best friend looked back at the screen with a smile."These girls are doing great. Deploying non-stop across the globe, takin' out demons, mapping out the hotspots. One funky, well-oiled machine." He said in satisfaction.

"Yep. Funky and oily." The blonde agreed. In a way, she was proud of them too. All of them had come a long way from when they were recruited, including the surviving former potentials. A lot of them were dealing with being a slayer better than she ever had. Buffy looked over at Xander, smiling wryly. " Of course, we can thank one of their _watchers_ for that."

Xander looked at her sharply. "Not a watcher. See, the term _'watcher'_ is reserved for uptight, tweed-jacketed Englishmen. I am not a watcher." The black-haired man clarified with feeling, pointing at her. He puffed out his chest and crossing his arms. "I'd like to think I'm too manly and have a little more finesse." He insisted lightly.

Buffy raised her brow. "Sure thing, _Sergeant Fury_."

Her best friend faltered. He gave her a long look. " ... You laugh now, but one of these days that's going to catch on." He said defensively, pointing at her with a meaningful look on his face.

"Hasn't for three years, Xand. I think you should stop trying." The blonde replied, amused.

Her friend scowled, crossing his arms. "Be that way, _Miss-Crusher-and-Destroyer-of-Dreams_." He huffed.

Buffy smiled. Xander had really turned around after the destruction of Sunnydale. As they gathered up the slayers, once recovering from Anya's death, he slowly ended up working his way up as a mentor role besides Giles. The hands-on approach was still Buffy's role of course, but he always gave advice in the field or out. He was even head of the new resource team. The girls really trusted him. Buffy had grown to depend on him more herself, almost as a right-hand man. Xander seemed happier now than he ever had in Sunnydale.

"So ... back to Poriggoes." The blonde went on, swiveling her chair back to the map. "Africa should probably be the first stop. It's loaded with them." She decided. "I guess if me and the girls need to work on our tan and dodge a couple lions, it could be worse."

"Thank god for Satsu. She scoped out a bunch of demon hangouts last time she visited. She's the one that pinned those Poriggo hotspots." Xander stated, impressed.

Buffy hummed agreement. "She's the best." It was not an understatement. At times it felt like she could lead the Slayer Organization herself someday ... and some days Buffy almost _wanted_ her to. Peering back at the map, the slayer skimmed over the U.S side. Her face fell instantly. "Oh no."

"What is it, Buff?"

The blonde slayer's eyes were frozen to the screen, overcome by anxiety. "Those Porrigo Hounds ... they spread. Arizona, Florida, even some in California."

Xander instantly understood. He was silent, observing his friend carefully. "... Buffy, it's been nearly two years. I'm sure by now—"

Buffy silenced him with a shake of her head. "We _can't_ go back there, Xander." She insisted with certainty, utterly dismayed. The blonde slayer looked up at her friend. "I can't—I _won't_ put those girls at risk again." Buffy declared with intense feeling, green gaze serious.

There was a reason their base of operations wasn't in the U.S. After the utter destruction of Sunnydale, the government had started to get nosy. Turns out you can't blow up even a lifeless city without asking questions. Slowly but surely, the trail led to her and her slayers. Soon enough, they labeled the Slayer Organization a terrorist group and took every chance they could to hunt and track them down.

There had been no negotiations or plans of peace. The government refused to believe that her and her slayer army were there to help, not hurt. When Buffy looked back on it, even now she was left always feeling cold. She had done a good thing, calling the slayers to fight evil. Why did something so good turn into something so wrong?

For a long time, other than the sting of unfair spearheading and hate groups, they dealt with the government hate. They were never found, never caught, and continued their work low-key. Helped that Buffy had been all over the world at the time, recruiting more slayers. Andrew had even hired two slayers to be Buffy decoys, one of which had been in Rome and dating the Immortal. Everything had been okay ... until the day it wasn't.

Two years ago, Buffy and a group of twelve slayers arrived in Los Angeles. Given how much of the city had been decimated and lives taken, it had been a bad idea. They only knew how bad when the government found them. They were assaulted by troops, the intent to capture or kill them. They escaped without killing any of the military ... but it had cost the lives of seven slayers. And it was all her fault.

The blonde slayer closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the horrible memories. There had been other kinds of pain then. The _worst_ kind. The guilt of the deaths of her slayers based on call _she_ made on top of that had been a fresh kind of hell she hadn't felt in a very long time.

"Buff ... " Xander's gentle voice and a hand on her shoulder stirred her. She opened her eyes to see her best friend's sympathetic face. "What happened in L.A. was a while back, and the government hasn't so much as peeped since. The coast is clear." At Buffy's pained look, he softened even more. "You gotta forgive yourself."

 _How?_ The slayer thought in distress. It had been _her_ fault. _Her_ call. She never should've went. The other side of her guilt came back with a vengeance and she almost crumbled then and there. Her insides twisted in knots, tugged back-and-forth towards each side and refusing to chose one permanently. It was pure torture.

"We don't know anything, Xander. Just because the cavalry hasn't stormed the castle yet doesn't mean we still aren't Public Enemy Number One. We can't risk it." Buffy said seriously.

She didn't want to say they were in hiding. Hiding made it sound so ... humiliating? Depressing really? What Buffy liked to tell herself: the U.S.'s borders were lined with an electric fence, they had already been on the outside, and it would be stupid to jump right into that fence. Somehow that description made her feel less like dirt.

"Well, _you_ can't. I'm about the rest of 'em." Xander clarified, taking his hand off her shoulder. "Send in a group, doesn't have to be big. They keep it low-key, don't draw any attention, and we'll smoke out those things like it's going out of style. Which it _is_." He advised, unable to keep out a joke.

The slayer listened to her friend, torn. On any other given situation, she would do exactly that. But after what happened back in L.A ... "If the military go after them again, Xander ..." She began meaningfully, weary.

"You can't just _leave_ the Poriggoes, Buffy. You know how fast they multiple. They'll kill thousands before they know what hit them." Her best friend insisted seriously. When the slayer didn't respond, he sighed and kneeled in front of her. "Buffy. I get it. That time in the L.A. ... a dark corner in your mind. The _darkest_. But you gotta get over it sometime." Xander's dark gaze firm. " ... There's no one else left to do this, Buffy."

 _No. There really isn't._ The small blonde thought, miserable. She _hated_ this. She hated endangering the slayers just because she called them. She hated the fact they'd been hunted down by the government and exiled to Europe for three years for no reason at all. She hated _all of this_ , but what was left for her to do?

"... I'll send in a couple slayers to the states, sets of three for each." Buffy agreed at last, pushing away her reservations as best she could.

Xander stood up. "Now that's the way you chase a ravenous, evil force to the brink of extinction!" He remarked cheerily, swinging his arm.

The blonde smiled, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. She was tired of Europe, of being hunted, of being associated with terrorism. She was just _tired_. Buffy missed the states. She missed California. She missed _Sunnydale_. All she wanted was to go home. Scotland wasn't home. To her, it was practically a prison.

" ... Do you ever miss it?" She said suddenly, her voice quiet.

Xander blinked. "What?"

Buffy raised her head, her arms crossed over her chest. "The old days. You, me, Wil, Giles ... back when it was a little less _Saving Private Ryan_ , more _Breakfast Club_." She elaborated, looking at her friend intently.

"Ah. Pre-eye patch days." Xander declared, snapping his fingers in realization. "I don't know. Sometimes. The power of nostalgia." He looked wistful a moment, then snapped out of it with a shake of his head. "But really, at the end of the day what's there to miss? A hole in the ground?" He said pointedly, uncomprehending.

Buffy sighed. She couldn't say that answer surprised her. "Everything was so much more ... simpler." She answered tiredly, feeling very left out. Was she really the only one of her friends that was feeling the toll?

Xander shrugged. "Feels on the same bar to me. We're still here, kicking ass and taking names. We just got a bunch of new toys now." He reasoned casually. Her friend gestured to the room. "Look at this, Buffy. We live in a castle, running a girl power army and get to role-play _S.H.I.E.L.D_ while we're at it. As far cool goes, that's at 'super' if you ask me."

"Cool even in getting hunted down by a government branch?" Buffy said flatly, giving him a look.

Xander paused. " ... That has novelty." He offered lamely with a nod. "I'm not saying it's perfect, Buff. But when in our lives has anything _ever_ been? I can think of a few frolicking, mind-whirling adventures in Sunnydale to test for that." He said meaningfully. "What we're doing now is good. We're making a difference."

"And we didn't before?" The blonde slayer inquired, upset.

"Buffy." Xander began, patient but firm. "I'm not trying to derail all our Scooby Gang misadventures ... but it's different now. Back then, there was only one, sometimes two. Now you hear the pitter-patter of Chosen Ones everywhere. We cut down monsters faster than we ever did. Save more lives. And these girls ... they love it. You gave them a purpose. Every one of 'em. And not just them." Xander smiled. "Giles is a watcher again, Wil gets to travel, and me, I get to be _Sergeant Fury_. That blows the Sunnydale days out of the water."

Buffy wasn't comforted. "Then why don't I feel it? Everyone has purpose bells ringing in their heads ... so where's mine? I just feel so ..." Buffy broke off, knowing she was being too honest. _Alone._ She finished, shaking her head.

Buffy had thought she knew loneliness. That's all being the Slayer was. When all the trouble with The First went down, she figured she had finally gotten used to it. More slayers called should've eroded that away completely. Ironically, eventually it just made it _worse._ Being responsible for so many slayers ... too many to name ... it just got to her. The burden on her shoulders never lifted anymore, not even for a moment.

"You're just overworked." Xander told her, putting his hand on her shoulder. "You need a breather. Maybe you should rest. Hopefully you'll sleep more than two hours this time." He advised pointedly, looking at her seriously.

The blonde slayer stood up. "I still need to issue out patrols for the Poriggo Hounds."

"That bird's already _flied_ , Buff. They headed out on monster clean-up a while ago." The black-haired man informed, frowning at her. He shrugged. "Well, except for the states. I figured I needed to drill that one through Slaymaster General first."

"You mean they left without my _orders_?" The blonde slayer said incredulously, outraged.

Xander spread his arms out defensively, giving an expression of peace. "Whoa, Buff. It's just a couple patrols. Not trying to toe-step here. Besides, they're big girls now. Three years, still kicking. That's like a ten-year _veteran_ in slayer years. Let them spread their wings."

Buffy let out a breath, trying to rein in her agitation. She didn't like this general deal, but she liked even less when she wasn't the one giving orders. _At least Xander had the sense enough not to send them off to states yet. God, I would've killed him._ He thought, shaking her head in disgust at the picture.

"Right. I guess I'll just ... organize the patrols heading out to the Mother Country." She relented a bit tensely, grimacing. She still hated any chance she was leaving them exposed to the military again, but the influx of Poriggo Hounds wasn't giving her much of a choice.

"Swell idea, after you _rest_." Though her best friend's tone was light, his expression was serious.

"I'm _fine_ , Xander." She insisted impatiently, rolling her eyes.

Xander was not fazed. "Buff, you're practically dead on your feet. You've been working on fumes all week." He pointed out sternly, his expression hard. "Two hours every night and drowning yourself in caffeine doesn't mix well with demon-fighting and leading an army."

Buffy was about to argue, then stopped herself. Grogginess clouded the edges of her consciousness, making her feel light-headed. Her whole body seemed heavy, as if it was too much effort to put one foot in front of the other anymore. But her mind was too restless, preoccupied with slayers and now this demon epidemic. Problem was, Xander was right. She couldn't lead an army when she could barely even think straight.

Sighing, she relaxed her posture. "I know. Nap time for Buffy definitely on the to-do list. I've just been so ... stressed." She admitted reluctantly, uncomfortable. Wasn't _that_ an understatement.

"That's why we love you, you little stress ball you." Xander joked, hitting her shoulder playfully.

The blonde slayer smiled. "Glad I can still entertain." She said dryly, rolling her eyes. As she walked past Xander, she glanced back at him. "Don't send out any slayers yet to the states until I wake up. I want to chose them personally." She said with seriousness.

"You got it."

Buffy walked past him out of the room, her thoughts churned restlessly. Maybe Xander was right. Maybe that cut-off feeling lately was just stress and her overworking herself. It was a nice thought, at least. So why did she still feel like it was something different altogether?

* * *

~~Dean~~

Dean and Sam walked down the steps, leaving behind a decent, suburban home. Both were dressed in FBI attire, done getting information from another witness. It turned out the new "gang" Novi, Michigan was not your typical gang. It did a lot more than just vandalism.

"We talked to all the family members. They all said the same thing. Perfectly apple pie normal, role model citizens. They spazzed out, obsessive, and then weird." Dean summed up. "Definitely demons. Sulfur was littered in every one of their homes."

Sam nodded. "Then they stopped coming home, ran off to their new team." They reached the Impala, walking to their sides of the car. "But's with all this 'out in the open' crap? A demon _gang_? I mean, since when is Crowley this obvious?" His little brother voiced incredulously with a frown, throwing out one hand.

"Looks like the douche is losing his edge." The older Winchester found that weird also. Crowley knew how to stay hidden. If anything, it made more sense to believe these demons were acting on their own. But that wasn't what was happening here either. While sloppy, something about this was ... systematic.

"Or he's _desperate_." Sam answered thoughtfully. "And by the way, the holes? At least three of the suspects went out of the middle of the night and just started digging, ten feet down straight." The taller Winchester recalled, frowning. "There's something going on here, Dean."

"It's Crowley. He's after something. Gotta be." Dean replied with certainty, nodding for emphasis.

"Like what?"

His older brother thought briefly, then gave a small shrug. "Nothing good." He replied grimly, opening the car door. "We still gotta a few more people to go. Maybe it'll piece the rest of this together." Dean stated, sitting down in the front seat. Sam followed closely on the passenger side.

The rest of the investigation went by with little change. The storie of the remaining relatives to the suspects consisted of mostly the same lines: didn't have any criminal record to speak of, changed in behavior, and started suddenly digging. Sulfur was in their houses also. One woman admitted she thought she saw her sister with black eyes. Things started to turn around a bit when one of them reported his brother hanging around city graveyards. Still, with no clear connection, Sam and Dean didn't have much to go on.

Towards the end of the day, Sam and Dean were approaching their last house. Dean fully expected to be disappointed, return to their motel, and spend the rest of the night with Sam trying to piece together a whole lot of nothing. When they were within three meters from the doorway, the blood-curdling scream of a woman from inside punctured the air.

Immediately on the alert, the brothers sprinted towards the house. Dean kicked the door with as much strength as he could, busting it open and instinctively drawing his gun. Sam was right at his shoulder, his own gun aimed. The woman Gloria Tillman (their next interview) was dead on the floor in her living room, her neck snapped.

Three people turned towards them slowly. Their eyes flashed black when they looked at them, recognition and hate emanating from their dark depths.

"It's the Winchesters." A bald one growled to his companions, disgust in his tone. Given his posture and his proximity to Gloria's body, it indicted he was the one who had killed the poor woman.

Dean slowly lowered his gun. "Well, well. Just who we've been looking for." He drawled, smirking.

"Nice job, getting us here. The murders, sticking to one town, the digging. Lead us directly to you." Sam answered condescendingly, looking them over with a hard green gaze. "Sure Crowley won't get you demoted for that?" He said glibly, a ghost of a smirk on his face.

The demons looked at each other, meaning passing between them. One of them, a petite bleached blonde, looked back with a glare. "Sorry, _Hardy Boys_. We don't have room for play time."

The older Winchester put away his gun. "Well, better pencil us in. See, me and Sam ... we gotta a few questions." Dean began in mock casualness, pulling out his demon knife. The demons tensed. "Too bad we only need one of you _dicks_." He added more meaningfully, twisting his knife in his hand.

Fury spread to the demons' faces and they charged.

The petite blonde tried to punch Dean, but he blocked it and threw a hard one straight across her face. He went in with the knife, but she beat him back with a knee to the stomach. Pain at the superior power to the blow lanced through him, allowing one of the male demons to strangle him from behind.

Dean struggled to breath, still managing to hold on to his knife. Angry, he reacted quickly. He kicked the blonde demon away, sending her sprawling into the coffee table and breaking it on landing. Ignoring his lack of oxygen, he fished for the holy water in his jacket pocket and threw it directly up into the bald demon's face.

The demon yelled in furious plan, his face burning. Dean yanked his arm away and stabbed him directly in the stomach, killing him instantly. Not far away, Sam was battling the third demon, but was holding his own and looked very close to killing him. Dean turned his attention to the blonde demon, now standing in front of him.

Her blue eyes gleamed with promise. "I can't wait to see the look on Crowley's face when I say I killed the Winchesters."

Before Dean could respond, she lunged. Dean dodged her knife and a couple blows, then retaliated with his own knife. It grazed her palm and the demon groaned, backing off briefly and holding her hand. The Winchester knocked her knife out of her hand and threw her over another table. Sam, having finished off his demon, was rushing over with iron handcuffs.

Not giving her a chance to get up, Dean pinned her down with one boot on her back. Taking the handcuffs from Sam, he cuffed her as he quickly as he could. "You ain't getting Employee of the Month, bitch." He told her.

"We gotta get her tied up." Sam said.

"You son of bitches!" The demon cursed furiously.

"Shut up." Dean said curtly, forcing her roughly to her feet and shoving her in front of him towards the kitchen. Sam followed with his supply of rope.

In a couple minutes, the blonde demon was tied and hand-cuffed securely to a dining room chair in the living room. She struggled against her hand-cuffs, twitching in pain and sweaty from the chafing iron. The brothers loomed over her, prepped for interrogation. The blonde glared at them through black eyes.

"Talk." Sam ordered sharply.

The demon scowled fractionally. "Racist. A couple of demons can't just patronize a city?"

Rolling his eyes at the obvious stall, Dean doused her with holy water. She screamed, steam coming off body. "The so-called gang you have going, possessing people not even with a blemish on their attendance record. What's with the demonic _Sons of Anarchy_?" He prompted impatiently.

The blonde demon said nothing, tense and angry. Sam took it from there. "You've been digging at night, trying to find something. What?"

She paused, wearing an unreadable expression on her face. "Bite me." She spat, tone thick with disgust.

Sam and Dean advanced on the demon. Dean stabbed her in the hand with his knife the same time his little brother poured large amounts of holy water. Another yell of pain pierced the air. Dean leaned down threateningly. _"Talk!"_ He shouted in her face.

The blonde demon coughed, trembling. "It's top-secret. He'll kill me." She choked out.

"Oh, you're dead either way." The older Winchester responded in brutal simplicity. Dean never understood why these demons made it so difficult to get information. There was no hope for them the second they got caught, whether by their hands or Crowley's.

"Crowley finds you, he'll make sure your death lasts. At least with us, we'll make it quick." Sam reasoned matter-of-factly, looking just as uncompromising as his brother.

The demon paused, still shaking. She glared up at them furiously, her insolence obvious. Tired of how long this was taking, Dean twisted the blade in her hand. She screeched. "Alright, alright! Crowley ... this was all assigned by him. We thought it was underground, but it turned out it's in the graveyards." The blonde demon gave in at last, her breathing jagged.

"What is?" Dean pressed intently.

"I don't know. The three of us had just arrived here, he wouldn't tell us." She explained wearily. Dean, not buying that for a second, twisted the knife more violently. The blonde cried out deafeningly. " _I don't know!_ I swear! He doesn't tell all of us everything. Only the best. He doesn't trust us." The demon confessed desperately, near-piteous.

 _Hmm. Wonder why._ He thought sarcastically, taking in the fact of how much she confessed when backed in a corner.

"The only thing I know is that we were supposed to meet up with the others later at the Oakland Mausoleum. Whatever it is, it's supposed to be there. _That's all_." The blonde demon finished, even in her weak state still glaring defiant blue eyes.

"And what about Gloria Tillman? Why'd you kill _her_?" Sam asked pointedly.

The demon's face was hard. "She got in the way. One of the meatsuits my friend was wearing was her hubby. She started hassling us so we had to _remove_ the problem to cover our trail." She explained in no uncertain terms. She managed a smirk. "It was fun."

"You son of a bitch." Dean remarked, shaking his head in disgust. God, he hated demons.

The blonde demon smirked, but soon enough sobered. "We were supposed to be meet with the others at Oakland. That's _all_ I know." She insisted in emphasis.

Dean exchanged a glance with Sam. Looking back at the captive demon one last time in distaste, the older Winchester pulled out the demon knife and stepped back. On cue, Sam pierced the blonde demon in the chest with his angel blade. She made one final gasp before her head drooped limply.

"Oakland Mausoleum?" Sam said, looking at his older brother questioningly.

Flipping his knife, Dean put it securely back in his jacket. "Looks like we got a date to catch."

* * *

~~Buffy~~

"This is ridiculous, Xander." Buffy grumbled, her arms crossed as she stared down the medieval door. She was devoid of slayer armor now, dressed in her casual wear of a pink tank top under a gray jean jacket, black jeans, and grayish-brown combat boots. Irritation crawled over her skin. She did _not_ want to be here.

Her best friend hovered close behind her, his expression tired. "Buff ... you gotta talk to Dawn. _Sister_ talk. Y'know, the lovey-dovey talk, not the spitting-and-clawing, hair-pulling talk."

"Spitting and clawing is the only way we know _how_ to talk." She remarked sharply. _At least lately._ She thought with more discomfort.

Every since the destruction of Sunnydale, things have been tense between her and Dawn. There had been moments over the course of the three years that had sparks of their former closeness between the rockiness. Unfortunately, this was one of the bad patches.

"Correct. Ergo intervention." Xander said lightly, pushing her towards the door.

Buffy resisted, pivoting on her heel and whirling around to face him. "Giles is doing a training session with the slayers. I need to be there." The blonde argued stubbornly.

"Giles has been perfecting hoops for slayers before he even met us. The guy's watcher concentrate. He can run the show without you." Her friend answered calmly. At Buffy's frustrated look, Xander became more serious. "She's your _sister_ , Buffy. Believe it or not, you're not the only one having a tough time at Camp Slayer."

"Seems to me everyone else is just _walking on air_." Buffy muttered.

"Maybe it wouldn't, if you actually _listened_ to her." Xander shot back sternly.

Repressed guilt started to worm it's way into the slayer. She sighed tiredly. "I've _tried_ , Xander. She never listens! She doesn't get it. And then she turns on her 'Whine Mode' and just _whines_ and _whines_ and _whines_ before ending eloquently on the Buffy Blame Game. Which happens _every_ time." Buffy explained in hurt frustration. "Sorry if I don't feel like watching re-runs of _Confessions of a Teenage Drama Dawn_. I got better things to do."

Xander gave her a long look. " ... You know that thing you do when you give up, cut people out, and put on your judgy goggles? You're doing that thing." He said matter-of-factly, his expression meaningful.

Buffy shook her head. "I'm not ..." She tried to deny, breaking herself off when realized his point. Weariness sunk into her bones. She looked away. "Dawn ... she just shuts me out. Whatever's bugging her, she won't tell me. Maybe when Willow gets back—"

"Buff. We all know Dawn's got some _serious_ communication issues ... but it's looking to me like that runs in the family." Buffy glanced tensely at Xander's serious face, catching the meaning. "It takes two to tango and two to miscommunicate."

Buffy said nothing, feeling more and more guilty. Everything was just so _complicated!_ She was always organizing the slayers and most of the time when she did try to talk to her sister, Dawn completely shut her out. Or maybe they shut each other out. Either way, Dawn talked more to Willow now than she did to her. A fact that, as much as she loved the red-headed witch, Buffy couldn't help but resent.

The slayer lowered her eyes. " ... She won't talk to me. Besides, she probably doesn't even want to see me." She said wearily, her own words stinging with hurt and disappointment.

" _Of course_ she does." Xander insisted, completely matter-of-fact.

The blonde slayer said nothing, unable to hold back her doubt. She missed their closeness more than she could stand. After everything with the Slayer Organization and the constant stress, Dawn kept her anchored. In a time when Buffy felt so very alone, she couldn't bear to lose her sister. But she didn't know what to say to her or how to say it. Avoiding Dawn was only ever her just avoiding a fight. She was tired of fighting.

"I already told Dawn before. Things are different. If Dawn still can't wrap her head around that, then that's her thing not mine." Buffy reasoned, her brisk tone not matching the regret in her heart. "I have the Slayer Organization to worry about ... I have to lead them."

"Or you could be a _sister_." Her best friend stated, an edge to his voice.

Those five words, so short and simple, cut Buffy right to core. Shame, hurt, and a bunch of other mixed feelings rained down on her. She _wasn't_ a sister anymore? Had the distance leading the Slayer Organization sprung up in her gotten that bad these past three years? The slayer gave a pained frowned. Was that even a question?

Maybe Xander was right. Maybe she was being too hard on Dawn.

 _Xander's so stupid when he's right._ The blonde couldn't help herself, not sure how to feel. Buffy glanced behind her towards Dawn's bedroom, then back at Xander. Her friend nodded. While she was ninety-nine point nine nine percent certain this was a terrible idea and would only end in a catfight, Buffy sighed and rapped on the door.

 _"What?"_ Dawn's muffled voice answered.

Her older sister drew in a breath. "Dawn, it's Buffy. I just wanna talk." Immediately the blonde slayer nearly winced. _'I just want to talk?'_ Could she sound more lame?

There was a pause. Buffy braced herself for a rejection. _" ... Come in."_ Her sister sounded grudging, but not non-compliant.

Buffy opened the door. Dawn moved to sit on the edge of her bed. Her younger sister just stared at her a moment, expression tense. The blonde slayer closed the door behind them, trying to think of something to say. As usual, when she couldn't, she went to her default.

"Did I interrupt Moping Beauty?" Buffy quipped.

She meant that to be a joke, but instant irritation flashed over Dawn's face. " _Ha-ha_." The brunette said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Is Willow back yet?" She asked almost desperately, hope flooding her eyes.

 _Right. Your_ new _big sis._ Buffy reflected, unable to staunch the hurt feeling. Not that this hadn't been exactly what she expected. "No." She responded as she walked over towards Dawn, ignoring the pangs of envy.

Dawn looked disappointed a moment, then refocused on her more suspiciously. She crossed her arms, looking at Buffy through narrowed eyes. "So? What do you want?" She asked warily. Before she could say anything, her sister beat her to it. "Do I need to do another weapons run for your slayers again?"

Buffy did not miss the bitterness to Dawn's voice. Managing to keep a straight face, she crept closer. "Xander said ... you needed to talk." She began awkwardly, holding her hands in front of her.

Mixed emotions danced across Dawn, then she hardened. "I don't." She bit out, glaring.

 _Well, this is going swimmingly._ The small slayer sucked in a calming breath. "Dawn ... I'm here. _You_ got me here. If you got something you wanna get off your chest, get it off. " She prompted firmly. "Me performing my sisterly duty here." She added more pointedly, throwing out a hand.

"For _once_." Dawn muttered.

Buffy's anger flared. "Dawn ... I'm taking the precious minutes out of my _very_ tight schedule to stand here and listen to you whine. I have a thousand better things to do. But I'm still _standing here_." She retorted sharply. "I'm _trying_ to help. Now, if you wanna keep being a brat about it, be my guest. But I am _not_ going to stay here and take it."

"Like _I_ want spend my time listening to _you_ , the World's Biggest Critic?" Her younger sister spat back, equal annoyance in her eyes.

"Okay, that's it." Buffy said angrily, doing a crossing gesture with her hands. "You wanna stay locked in your room feeling sorry for yourself, _Emily Dickinson_ , plan out your own pity party. I'm gone." She declared hotly, already turning to walk away. She had _so_ many better things to do. Buffy was not a counselor anymore and according to popular report, she had sucked at that job anyway.

If Dawn wanted to be miserable and blame everything on Buffy, that was her choice. Whenever her little sister decided to grow up, then she'd know where to find her.

"Go ahead, leave! You'd just blame me for everything anyway!" Dawn shot back bitterly.

That stopped Buffy. She turned around again, getting a better look at Dawn. Her little sister's body was turned away from her, peering at the blonde slayer through her hair in a searing glare. The frustration in the nineteen-year old was palpable.

"I do _not_ blame you for everything." Buffy said in quiet force, her green gaze steady.

Dawn paused, lowering her head. " ... Yes, you do. You act like everything is my fault." She answered steely, but even the harshness in her voice couldn't block out the sadness. The young girl was genuinely distraught.

Buffy felt as if she had been punched in the gut. The blonde slayer knew she could be hard on Dawn, but it was usually for her own good. It had never been about blame, at least not completely. It pained her to see that her little sister could think of her so cruel.

 _But ... I never helped it. I rag on her_ all _the time lately. Or ignore her altogether. This is my fault._ She admitted guiltily. Xander was right. Buffy didn't know how to communicate. If anything, Dawn just learned from the best.

The blonde slayer walked over slowly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Her little sister looked away. "Dawn ..." She began, putting her hand on shoulders and turning her towards her. Dawn didn't resist, but was still wary. "I'm your _sister_. If you have any problem, you can always tell me." Buffy brushed her hair out of her face, expression compassionate. "Now what's the matter?"

Dawn stared at her vulnerably. She lowered her eyes. She didn't say anything a moment. "I hate this place. Why did you have to chose Scotland? It's frickin' freezing here!" She muttered, her voice raising in complaint.

Buffy quirked an amused brow, unable to stop a smirk from coming. "Is _that_ what all this is about?"

Her sister glowered slightly. "No. Everyone's always so busy. Most of you barely have time to even talk to me except Xander and Willow when she's here. But she's not _here_. Not lately." She admitted, bitterness in her voice. "And you never even really let me help! All your slayers go out and kill demons and vampires and I knew all that stuff before them but you still treat me like I'm grounded!" She ranted.

The blonde shook her head. " _Slayers_ , Dawn. They're hard-wired against fighting the monster mashes."

"But Xander, Willow, and Giles aren't slayers!" Dawn retorted.

"Willow's a witch. Giles is book man and Xander's mostly our 'eyes only' guy." Buffy responded matter-of-factly. At her sister's obvious disgust and skepticism, she sighed and held Dawn's hands. "Dawnie ... I just don't want to see you get hurt." She said in all earnestness.

Buffy couldn't explain it. Something about Dawn going down the same path she did rubbed her the wrong way. By the time their mother passed and the close calls with Glory, the blonde slayer developed a natural panic reflex at Dawn doing any form of slaying. Buffy overcome it somewhat during the year with The First, but even now it was still a struggle to kick the habit.

"I'm _nineteen_! Stop treating me like I'm still a kid!" She said indignantly.

"You'll always be my little sister." Buffy answered, her green gaze fixed on her meaningfully. That was another weird truth. No matter how old Dawn got, she still remembered her as that snot-nosed fourteen-year old she risked her life, pride, morals, and even her own sanity to protect. Even now, Buffy just couldn't stop feeling like it was her job to protect her.

Some of her sister's indignation died. She sighed, pulling her hands out of her grasp and looking away. "I'm tired of Europe, Buffy. Don't get me wrong, it was cool at first ... but now I just want to go home." Dawn lamented, a distant look in her blue eyes.

The blonde slayer smiled ruefully. "What'dya know. We really _are_ sisters."

"I should be back in Berkley right now. I was doing great. Straight A student, all these cool books in their library, a huge dorm, _normal_ friends. Totally my element. I even almost had a boyfriend." Dawn went on wistfully. The longing soon melted off in a scowl. "But you guys pulled me out, send me all the way over here. Continuing the long and crappy tradition of Summers college dropouts."

Regret pulled at Buffy's heartstrings. "We had no choice, Dawn. The government was tailing us majorly then. They would've gotten to us through you. Who's to say what would've happened to you then?" She reminded her pointedly, sympathetic nonetheless.

Dawn paused. " ... Can't I just go back? I mean, it's been two years. They haven't done anything bad." She suggested hopefully, looking at her sister pleadingly.

Buffy hesitated. She understood how much Dawn missed California and wanted to return to Berkley University. What she wanted for her sister more than anything was to get a good education, not getting dragged down by the way her older sister's life was. Still, that ripple of unease left a knot in her stomach. The same kind about her slayers going back to states. Something about it just didn't feel right.

Buffy shook her head. "No."

 _"Why not?"_ Dawn said in dismay.

"It's not safe!" The small blonde answered, looking at her desperately. She just wished Dawn could understand. It was no different than what she had told Xander yesterday. It was just too soon to find the United States a safe haven again.

"But they haven't done anything!" The young brunette argued, her expression the epitome of confusion.

"Dawn, you're not going. That's final." Buffy replied in a hard tone, her stern gaze unyielding.

The brunette opened her mouth to argue, but the withering glare her older sister was shooting her stopped her before she could even try. She backed off, pouting in frustration and disapointment. " ... I still don't get why you didn't just open up a school or something. What would've been so terrorist-y about that?" She muttered.

Buffy's glare didn't waver. "Dawn ... we're not in _Harry Potter_."

Her sister looked offended, her blue eyes stretched wide innocently. "What? It would've worked!"

"Not in this lifetime." The blonde slayer muttered, rising off the bed. She turned to her sister. "Any more girly sister angst I need to know about? 'Cause I got a thing." Buffy told her pointedly, brisk again.

Dawn narrowed her eyes. "The slayers, right?"

"Giles is doing a free-for-all training session with the girls. I figure I should help with the hands-on before he talks their ears off or bores them to death." Buffy explained casually, unable to stop herself from poking fun at the man she had grown to regard as a father.

Her sister's more relaxed demeanor was changing. She scowled and lowered her head. "Squeezing in time for your new slayer _sisters_ ... of course." Dawn said lowly.

The blonde slayer caught the tone instantly. Buffy narrowed her eyes, instant annoyance prickling under her skin. "Dawn ... we've been over this how many times. Kind of leading an army now, remember?" She told her sharply.

Dawn avoided her eyes. She was silent a moment. " ... I never see you anymore. You're always running around with _them_." She grumbled, sadness and bitterness in a voice.

"I don't have a _choice._ " Buffy answered incredulously. "They need me to be in charge. I called them, I need to lead them." The blonde argued more passionately, her own frustration at that truth slipping in her tone. She threw out her arm. "There it is. Facts. You change the world, you need to do a little changing yourself. _A lot_ of changing. And believe me, my hindsight hit 20/20 on that a _long_ time ago."

Her little sister finally looked at her. "What about us, Buffy?" She argued, her blue eyes filled with meaning. "You get so caught up lately in your slayers, you don't even—"

Anger built up in the blonde. "Like I have a _choice_ , Dawn!" She cut her off in a hard edge. "Did you miss the part about an army? A thousand _slayers_?" Buffy brought up pointedly, throwing out a hand. "I basically had to uproot my entire life. I don't have time. I don't have time for _anything_. I barely even have time to brush my teeth. Again, we go back to the hindsight-being-a-total-pain-in-the-ass analogy."

Mixed emotions were clashing across Dawn's face. "That's so totally wrong. What's the big? I mean, if you just dialed it down few a notches ... You act like you're still the only slayer!" She countered incredulously, shaking her head.

Buffy paused, carefully tucking away her emotions. " ... No, I'm not." She acknowledged solemnly, face impassive. "But I'm leading _eight hundred_ of them." The blonde slayer declared, giving Dawn a meaningful look.

Her younger sister stood up, facing the slayer. "Buffy ... I get it, okay? You called a bunch of slayers, adopted them, and turned yourself into the sacrificial pack horse. I get it. I mean, that's just you." Dawn acknowledged matter-of-factly. "But I'm still your _sister_ , Buffy! You never see me. And it'd be nice ... sometimes ... if you could just ... drag yourself away once in a while and actually _be_ my sister."

Buffy said nothing, studying Dawn's beseeching face. Pain and regret sparked in the slayer. She missed her sister too, but it just wasn't that easy anymore. " ... I told you things would be different." The slayer said in quiet meaning, trying to get a grip on herself.

Dawn withdrew as if Buffy had struck her. "Really? _That's_... that's all you're gonna say?" She responded in disbelief, hurt coloring her voice.

Buffy just looked at her sadly. She knew there were a thousand other things she could've said, but it'd either be redundant or lies. The blonde slayer loved Dawn more than she loved anything, but she had more responsibilities than just her now. She was stuck ... and she wasn't just talking about Dawn.

Dawn suddenly hardened. " _Of course._ You never listen to me, same as always. _'Poor, dumb, Dawn. She doesn't understand things.'_ " The young brunette retorted in marked bitterness. "God, what is wrong with you?! I don't know why I even talked to you!"

The blonde slayer tensed, sympathy forgotten as automatic anger and hurt pumped through her. _There_ was the Buffy Blame Game, right on cue. "Y'know, I'm that one that should be asking that question. You know why I say you don't understand? Because you _don't_! You expect everyone to drop everything like the world revolves around you. _Newflash_ , Dawn! That's the sun."

"That's rich, coming from Miss-Walks-Around-Like-She's-Better-Than-Everyone!" Dawn bit out with just as much ire, her glare twin balls of blue fire.

"Running this organization is my job now. Yeah, that crams into our sister-sister talking, but it crams into everything else too! It's called responsibilities, which you wouldn't know 'cause you never _had_ them." Buffy fired out angrily, throwing out a hand. "This is the way things are gonna be. Get over it!"

Dawn crossed her arms, expression steel. " ... Sorry you had to see my face then." The young brunette said bitterly.

Buffy just watched her a moment, her green gaze spears of disapproval. She shook her head. "Grow up, Dawn." She said harshly.

Having been done with this conversation a long, long time ago, the blonde slayer turned on her heel and strode to the doorway. She didn't even cast a single glance at her sister when she opened the door, walked out, and slammed it shut behind her.

Buffy stood outside, her face twisted in a supreme scowl. Fury, frustration, disappointment, and a plethora of other emotions slammed down on her all at once like a tidal wave, overwhelming the blonde slayer as took a moment to try to come back from it.

Unfortunately she wasn't given much time.

Xander appeared from one of the hallways. "So. How'd it go? You and Dawnie make up in tears, hugs, and sudsy words in good chick flick fashion?" He prompted cheerily as he walked over, clapping his hands together. Clearly he had skulked around the room waiting to see the fruits of his labor.

Aggravation marred her worse. Her best friend slowed, his pep rapidly disappearing as he caught the hard and annoyed look on her face. He slowed and finally stopped in front of her, his expression falling. She glared at Xander, the conversation with Dawn still too fresh before making a move to walk away.

"Buff ..." He called just as the slayer was about to walk past him.

Buffy stopped and after a moment grudgingly raised her head. Xander was looking at her questioningly. "Xander. Next time you push for a little Buffy and Dawn sister time ..." She began casually, a forced smile on her face. _"Don't."_ Buffy's smile fell off, glaring at her best friend in flinty warning.

Before another word could come out of Xander's mouth, Buffy turned and stalked down the hallway.

The blonde slayer traveled the castle blindly, her mood dark and angry. Dawn never failed to be a complete and _total_ pain. Buffy had tried, _really_ tried this time to understand Dawn and not see everything through her "judgy goggles" (Xander's words, not hers). She hadn't up and left the second she started complaining, which deserved credit in itself. Dawn couldn't even _try_ to acknowledge that?

Dawn's inability to tolerate "sharing" Buffy with the other slayers was the worst part. Dawn was lonely and missed her sister. That Buffy could understand. What she could _not_ understand was how Dawn couldn't see the big picture. It was all black-and-white to her. If Buffy spent more time with her, they were sisters. If Buffy worked too much with the slayers, she was punishing her.

 _God, she's so childish! Like I'm_ trying _to drop her off at a fire station and disown my own sister. Doesn't she know me better than that?!_ The blonde slayer thought, insulted after everything she's done for her. That had really hurt, what Dawn said. That Buffy blamed her for everything. Buffy knew she was no role model as far as being a big sister went ... but she still tried the best she could.

Dawn just couldn't get it. It wasn't about ignoring her for the slayers. It was about her _job_. That always came first, even over Dawn. If Dawn just got a maturity boost overnight, she'd realize Buffy was just as miserable with the arrangement as she was.

Buffy's resentment grew. Besides the blaming comment, that stung most of all. Her little sister was completely out of touch with Buffy's feelings and misinterpreted everything she felt. How dare Dawn act like she was the only person suffering? Ignore just how much Buffy was sacrificing of herself, how hard she was trying to keep it together?

 _If Dawn was in my shoes, even for just a day, ... she would've wished she never said that._ Buffy thought with certainty. But Dawn couldn't understand, just like everyone else. They weren't the ones in charge of an army, having everyone depend on them and then having no time left for yourself.

The blonde sighed, her hand running along the wall as she walked down the stone staircase. She was already starting to regret how she treated Dawn. It couldn't be her sister's complete fault she couldn't understand how she felt. After all, Buffy was the one that pushed her away. No matter how busy she was, this whole misunderstanding erupted because she never tried to sit down and _really_ talk to Dawn. Even now, could she say she couldn't have done better?

 _I was too hard on_ _her_. _Again._ Buffy acknowledged guiltily, pouting. _If she just understood what I was going through, my deal with the slayers instead of being a spoiled brat, I would've ... and I'm doing it again, aren't I?_ Discomfort shot through her as her train of thought fell once again into the land of resentment.

Yep. Buffy's old "give up, cut off, and judge" routine. She could hear Xander's voice in her head already.

"God, I suck." Buffy muttered. Like she had _any_ hope of patching things up when Dawn when she kept holding grudges and feeling sorry for herself. Had she always been this bad?

It wasn't until sounds of voices and weapons clashing together did Buffy finally realize where her feet had taken her. Refocusing, the small slayer saw a wooden door leading towards the outside where the noises were coming from. Finishing the last set of steps, Buffy pushed the door and emerged out.

A hoard of slayers, somewhere around two hundred, filled up the open grass field. The girls sparred, human flurries of kicking, punching, and slashing with their wooden swords (That was a new rule; actual weapons had been allowed the first year, hoping it would give them more of an 'experience' feel. Let's just say that had been quickly scrapped after one particularly fateful accident with an axe). Buffy watched without interfering, a small smile on her face.

A deafening horn blast sounded over the chaos. All the slayers stopped instantly, drawing back their weapons and untangling themselves from each other to look up. Buffy, already smiling wider, raised her head in that direction. She already knew who it was.

Giles was standing in his balcony, one arm held high with a horn in his hand and the other carrying a cup of tea. As the noise of the crowd started to die down, the watcher put the horn on a table. He overlooked the girls with a smile on his face.

"Excellent work, girls. I can see many of you've truly embraced your slayer instincts. More than I had hoped ... quite a few of you could even give Buffy Summers herself a rather impressive run for her money." Giles praised in crisp admiration.

Buffy, still unnoticed, quirked a brow.

Giles took a sip of his tea, pausing as he swept his gaze over them. " ... I noticed many of you broke into teams, mirroring each others' movements. You used each other to time just the right moment to strike." He remarked, tone hard to place. Confusion was visible in some of the slayers' faces. "A slayer, you see, ... she fights alone. Relies on only herself. The one and only constant in a world filled with unspeakable evil ..."

"Hey, guys." Buffy raised her voice, finally making her presence known as she picked her away to the front of the crowd. "I'm not interrupting something really depressing, am I?" She said lightly, a wry smirk on her face as she looked over the girls.

"Buffy." Giles greeted, smiling at her with fondness in his eyes. Buffy looked up, smiling back a moment, then quickly turned her attention to her slayers.

Buffy paused, suddenly serious. " ... A slayer _does_ fight alone. No friends, no relationships ... no fun. Just you, the vampires, and the demons. Our only long-term _anything_ is with the big bads and the nasties." Grabbing a extra wooden sword from one of the slayers, she threw out her hand. "All the fine, not-so-fine print of the handbook, ye Holy Slayer Bible." The blonde's gaze suddenly intensified. "I say to hell with the handbook. Never even read it."

The small slayer walked around them, flipping her sword. "Those rules were written by a bunch of doddering librarians who never raised their nose any more than an inch from a book." The blonde stopped and looked at them steadily. "So here's the New Testament. We _don't_ fight alone. We fight besides each other. _Count_ on them. Because we _can_. Because we have a _choice_. Slayers don't need solitude. They need _friends_. _Family_. 'Cause without that ... the bad side of this life catches up with you. And it can get really, _really_ bad." Buffy said with feeling. "Old school watchers were idiots. They got their own girls killed. You study the past, you learn. Lesson learned."

Buffy stepped closer to the crowd. "There was always a Chosen One meant to save the world. Always expected by _everyone else_ to eternally jump through some _other_ person's hoops like their own personal showdog. Not anymore." The slayer stated fiercely. Buffy softened, compassion etching her features. "One may be the loneliest number ... but it's not _one_ anymore."

The slayers stared in rapt attention. In sea of faces, their emotions were the same: hope, satisfaction, relief ... respect. Respect for her. And for that one moment ... seeing the looks on their faces ... Buffy found everything she had been through these three years up until now was worth it.

Giles nodded slowly, a smile on his face. " ... Yes. Slayers now are meant for teamwork and to share their burdens together. Well done, girls." He agreed admiringly, satisfied they had all passed his test. He glanced over at Buffy, looking as proud as any father.

Buffy smiled. "As much as I love a good group hug and waxing off a little 'sharing and caring' ... " She began light-heartedly, twisting her wooden sword around. "Let's see if you're as in-touch with your reflexes as you are team spirit."

The oldest slayer paused, searching the crowd thoughtfully for a good demonstration. "Satsu, Leah, and Baillie." She singled out, pointing towards each of them in the front row. " ... I invite you to kick my ass." She declared, casually inviting them with her arm.

The girls blinked, startled.

Buffy backed up from them a couple spaces, adjusting her grip on the wooden sword and holding it up. "Come on. Have at me." She said again, still just as light.

The slayers exchanged only one glance, then charged. Green eyes instantly narrowed in concentration, the blonde slayer blocked Leah's sword while narrowly dodging Baillie's attempted slash on her stomach. As Satsu came up on her other side, Buffy kicked Baillie away and jumped, using Leah's shoulders forcefully as a kickstart. Leah bowelled over, falling to the ground with the wind knocked out of her. In mid-air, she swept her leg with her whole body, directly at Satsu's head.

Satsu managed to duck so the general's leg hit air. Baillie, always the quickest, recovered with a blunt sway of her sword. The blonde slayer flipped on her feet, yanking Baillie's swords out of her hands, effortlessly turning it sideways and shoving Baillie away before using the hilt of the sword to hit Satsu in the face.

Buffy had just enough time to see Satsu stumble before pressure closed around her foot. It was Leah, on the ground with a vice-like grip. Unable to react in time, the blonde slayer was yanked down. Recovering, Buffy tried to kick and flip herself back up, but Satsu and Baillie were nothing if not advantageous. Baillie kicked her general in the side and within seconds, all three were in front of her, their wooden swords pointed close to her throat.

Buffy stared at them, surprised. She had never expected Leah to recover that quickly after the force she used on her. _They're faster now ... thinking more out-of-the box. They're better fighters._ You'd think being their general and with how much patrols she's been on them, she noticed their accelerating growth rate. Their teamwork for one, which had been a chaotic mess during the first year and not just for these three.

 _Okay. Time to turn it up a notch._ Buffy decided, smirking a bit to herself.

"Better. Giles might not be too far off the mark on living up to _my_ record ..." She drawled casually.

Buffy kicked Baillie's wooden sword out her hands and slid down, tripping her. As Baillie fell to the floor, the blonde slayer flipped back, pushing off the ground as Satsu and Leah attacked. Snatching another wooden sword from one of the slayers and balancing on another, Buffy drop-kicked Leah in the face while blocking Satsu's sword.

The oldest slayer retaliated against the Japanese slayer, sweeping her whole body and throwing it full speed into her. Satsu grunted, tumbling instantly and lost in a cloud of dust. When the dust cleared, Buffy was standing on Satsu with one boot on her back, her wooden sword still in hand as she watched Leah and Baillie on the ground.

The blonde smirked. " ... But experience always wins." She finished quirkily, watching in near-amusement as Leah and Baillie struggled to find their motor functions. Satsu especially seemed uncomfortable, still firmly being used as her doormat.

Knowing they desperately needed back shreds of their dignity, the blonde slayer went through the drill in her head. "Great job on the impromptu stuff. Improvising ... always a slaying _do_. Nice reflexes, better strategy. All very mondo impressive." Buffy assessed. "Still. Survey still ends in three dead slayers. You need work. Reaction time mostly."

Finally aware of groans of discomfort, Buffy self-consciously stepped off Satsu and helped her up. " ... You okay?" She asked awkwardly, frowning. She might've swung herself at the Japanese slayer with a little too much velocity.

Satsu shook her head, a hand on forehead. "Are there any bells ringing?"

 _Yikes._ The blonde slayer thought, a bit guilty as she took in the obvious disorientation. "Sorry. Just ... walk it off. You'll be fine." Buffy told her, patting her on the back a moment as she tried to be reassuring.

She turned her attention back to the other slayers. "Keep up the practice a little while longer. You could always use it. Afterwards, hang out. Take a little break. The monsters aren't going anywhere. In couple hours, we head out. You all know the patrols you're on."

The slayers resumed their training. Buffy watched them quietly a moment, her better mood quickly dampening as she thought back to Dawn. Xander had probably gone to give her a shoulder to cry on, all the while to complaining to him about her. She couldn't help but wonder if her sister had gone back to hating her.

Regret and disappointment pierced her at the thought. So much for Xander's bright idea of "sister bonding".

The blonde slayer shook herself, willing away her concerns. Dawn was a problem that couldn't be solved. At least not now since she knew her sister well enough to know she was still fuming. _I have all the time in the world to talk to Dawn. Besides ... I got bigger things to worry about._

* * *

~~Dean~~

Dean and Sam crept silently under the cover of night, venturing into the graveyard. The brothers snuck into the Oakland Mausoleum as soon as the sun went down, managing to make it past security cameras and climb the gate. The Impala was parked inconspicuously a few blocks, close enough for an escape. Neither hunters knew what to expect so they tried to stay hidden.

Time passed as they cased out at least half of the graveyard, investigating everything they could and not finding a single sign of demons. Dean considered fleetingly that the demon bitch had sent them to the wrong place, then remembered it matched up with the info they got on the graveyards being vandalized. _Too specific. They gotta be heading here._

"Think we're walking into a trap?" Sam said lowly, glancing at his brother.

Dean scoffed. " _Always._ "

"They might just not be here yet. It's not like the demon just handed out the rendezvous time." The brown-haired hunter mentioned thoughtfully. "We don't know what we're walking into. It could go either way."

The older Winchester shrugged. "Yeah, well. Fly trap or not, we ain't leaving until we know what they're up to." Dean stated seriously, refusing to be nervous. "We better keep casing the place out. If they haven't showed, we'll start setting traps."

The brothers continued on through the mausoleum, still on their guard and scanning every crevice. When there was still no demons, Dean started to get hopeful. If they were here before them, they would be able to place Devil's Traps and other types before the demons even knew what happened.

When they were in the very heart of the mausoleum, Sam's hand pulled on his shoulder with sudden urgency. "Dean." His brother's tone was tense as he nodded towards a mass of graves on the far right.

Dean stiffened and turned the direction he was looking, his hand already reaching for his demon knife in his faded green jacket. The hunter's guard broke, shock written on his face as he finally caught sight of it: bodies, scattered across the ground to being splayed on top of coffins.

Dean masked his emotions, switching his expression back to business as he glanced at Sam. They looked at each other tensely, then started forward. Sam and Dean approached the scene surely but cautiously, in uncertain territory now. Soon enough the brothers stopped, silent as they stared down at the bodies.

Now that he was closer, Dean got a better glimpse of the scene. The bodies were six people at least, and fresh. Coffins had been toppled over, backwards on the ground. Close by the coffins, the dirt had been disturbed. Huge, gaping holes replaced where the coffins had been, all except one. There was one hole not even a quarter of the others.

"The _hell_?" Dean said incredulously, crouching down low. He turned over one of the bodies, seeing a gaping wound in her stomach. He caught the pungent, yellowy powder. "Well. Looks like we found our _Hellraiser_ gang." He deadpanned. _And just lost our lead. Again._ He thought, annoyed but resigned.

The oldest Winchester's gaze swept over the scene. "Look at this. Busted up coffins, holes dug in the ground ... they tore up this whole _damn_ place. And for _what_? It can't be grave-robbing." Dean assessed in exasperation. He _never_ understood Crowley's regular antics, let alone this. He shook his head, bitterly disappointed. "We got bupkis, Sammy."

When Sam didn't answer, Dean glanced behind him. "Sam?"

Sam didn't appear to be listening. His younger brother was crouched down a slight ways away from another body, wiping something off a gravestone. Dean came over, leaning over his shoulder for a better look. Sickly green ooze was on his fingers, the same kind on the gravestone. Instant disgust at the sight stabbed the older hunter.

"What is that, ectoplasm?" Dean said, his mouth curled incredulously. Wasn't ectoplasm supposed to be _black_?

His brother didn't react, rubbing the substance between his fingers. " ... It's _sulfur_." Sam answered, a pronounced frown on his face.

 _"What?"_ The older Winchester said in disbelief. If Sam had any funny bone in his body, Dean would've thought he was joking.

" _Look_ , Dean." The brown-haired hunter prompted, showing him the ooze.

Dean studied it, eyes narrowing. All he saw for the longest moment was just a string of goo. Finally, he noticed it. Specks of yellow powder dotted inside the green substance all across, some in jumbled clumps. If he tried hard enough, he could even smell it's stench. It had been dulled down tremendously compared to the other samples.

"The hell is ..." Dean began, his expression the pinnacle of confusion.

" _Yeah_. _Sulfur_. Like straight, friggin' _demonic_ sulfur." Sam punctured each word with meaning, just as incredulous as his brother. He looked back at it with frown, rubbing it between his fingers. "I mean, it's in some weird, _Slimer_ substance, but ... it's _sulfur_ , Dean."

"What kind of demon oozes green goo?" The older Winchester responded dubiously.

"Your guess is as good as mine." His younger brother told him with a shrug, giving him a rueful smile.

Dean took a moment to absorb all this. Overwhelmed, he shook his head and got up. "So. New monster? Mini- _Blobs_? _Onionheads_?" He listed, trying to be casual. Distaste surged forward at his own words and he closed his eyes briefly. "God, do not tell me _Slime People_. First of all, worst horror movie _ever_. I mean, we've seen a lot of weird crap, but a monster _slime ball_? _That's_ our new thing?" He went on in disgust.

"It's not a slime monster, Dean. It's a _demon_." Sam insisted, a little irritated.

"Demons don't track green ooze." Dean shot back, his expression hardening.

"Not that we _know_ of, but that doesn't mean it's not out there." His brother voiced reasonably. Dean gave him a look, but the other Winchester wasn't deterred. "Only way to explain the sulfur, Dean." Sam said matter-of-factly.

Dean stared at him, realizing the point. He rolled his eyes, putting his hand on his forehead. _God, I need a beer._ "Okay. So say this is a demon. Why'd a demon ice other demons? Weren't they on a job for Crowley?" He questioned skeptically. " 'Cause whatever came here definitely did killing. I mean, that's _obvious_."

Sam frowned. "Dunno, but they didn't get far. I mean, look at this place." His younger brother answered, gesturing to the holes, bodies, and disturbed coffins. "Whatever this demon was, whatever Crowley was after ... they obviously didn't want him to get it pretty damn badly." He noted with meaning.

"Hey, anything going crappy for Crowley and I'll break out the party shots. But we still don't know a single damn thing. What he's after, the digging, the coffins, any of it." The hunter said meaningfully, serious. "And now this friggin' ... _whatever_ it is. _Onionhead_ , demon, _Blob_ ... " Each word came out increasingly annoyed. Finally he shook his heard and threw up his arms. "It just adds on to the crap, okay?! We're back on page one." Dean finished impatiently, looking away in irritation.

"Can't argue with you there." His brother said distractedly. He pulled out a small ziplock bag from his jacket, rubbing the green substance on his finger inside it. Dean watched, a slight frown on his face as the younger hunter took out his angel blade and started scraping the goo off the gravestone.

"What, you gonna put that in your _Nerd Hall of Mysterious Substances_?" Dean couldn't help himself, straight-faced.

"Shut up." Sam replied instantly, glowering a bit as he kept scraping. "I'm taking a sample. If we don't really know what this is from, maybe we'll know when we study it." He explained, transferring a decent amount on the tip of his angel blade into the plastic bag.

Dean shrugged. He could admit that wasn't too bad of any idea. Of course, he couldn't think of anything they faced that left behind things like this, but it was the one something out of this day he could live with.

* * *

~~Buffy~~

The blonde slayer knocked and waited, at the door to Giles' study. No response. Deciding to take a shot, Buffy opened it and poked her head inside curiously. Giles was sitting in the far corner, holding a magnifying glass over something. His desk was stacked books upon books, several of them opened beside him. Notes and papers were spread out, emphasizing the cluttered image. The watcher didn't even look up.

"Giles?"

Giles hummed something, still distracted. Finally he raised his head. "Oh, uh, yes, Buffy." He acknowledged at last, sounding embarrassed. He set down the magnifying glass. " Did you just come back from patrol?"

"No. W-well, not yet. Just sent the first few." The slayer replied off-handedly, walking over. She stopped in front of him, staring down at his desk with a frown. "You aren't cataloguing again, are you?"

"As it happens, no. Rather _this_."

Giles cleared away some of the papers on his desk. Between her watcher's hands was a medium-sized, rectangular-like slab of stone. Lines of markings were carved into it, but they were too faint for her to make out. It looked incredibly old and dusted around the edges, as if it had just been pulled out of the ground. Buffy stared at it blankly.

"Wow. A hunk of rock. Wish I had one." She deadpanned.

Her watcher looked slightly irritated. "This is an _artifact_ , Buffy. A group of your girls sent it to me a couple months ago. It seems they uncovered it while doing a mission in Liverpool."

"Sure it wasn't _Bedrock_?" The blonde slayer quipped.

"Certain." Giles said dryly. He picked up the stone, brushing some of the dust off. "It seems to be encrypted with some form of ... _text_ _,_ I'm certain extinct since nothing I've thought of yet has achieved a proper translation. It appears very ... archaic." He elaborated thoughtfully, frowning.

 _Well, that explains a lot._ For a while now Giles had been locking himself in his study for hours at time. Buffy hadn't minded, busy herself, but today the blonde's curiosity was roused. In the precious times she's been able to stop and chat with him lately, he had certainly seemed preoccupied. Turns out his inner watcher programming had awakened again.

"Ooh! A gift-wrapped relic written in ancient, dead languages." Buffy said in insincere cheer, sitting down in the chair in front of his desk. "I thought your birthday was months ago." She added, her expression twisted in mock confusion.

The watcher stared at her, a displeased look on his face. "In the face of your unfettered glib and flippancy ... dare I say I'm boring you?" He responded in a flat tone.

The blonde slayer smiled fondly. _At least Giles is the one that never changes._ "So what's so special about this tablet?" Buffy asked as she crossed her arms, trying to be interested.

Giles' moodiness eased. "It was found in ruins, on the coast of Liverpool. By it's state and description of the girls, I'd say it's been underground well past thousands of years. But what's most curious is the language." The older man narrowed his eyes at the tablet. "In all my studying as a watcher, I can't say I know these hieroglyphics. It's ... an odd feeling, to say the least." Giles admitted, puzzled.

Buffy was surprised too. Giles knew many languages, even the extinct ones. For him to be stumped was a stumper for everyone else. The blonde repressed a sigh. "Okay, what is it this time? A prophecy, object of mass destruction, cursed artifact, _object of mass destruction_?" She listed off cynically, rolling her eyes.

"Well, i-it's hard to say. The translation is ... well, i-i-it's non-existent, at best. " Her watcher sounded more than a little uncomfortable. "All could fall in the realm of possibility, it could even in fact just be an ancient artifact from a lost civilization."

The blonde slayer stared at him, skeptical to her very core. " ... Giles. You _do_ know our lives, right? Badness or the freaky. Never anything in between." Buffy stated seriously, completely matter-of-fact. Nothing normal _never_ happened to them. Their luck proved that time and time again.

The older man studied her, his expression masked. " ... I think it's best it gets interpreted first before jumping to any grim conclusions." He said at last carefully.

 _Already jumped._ The slayer thought, refusing to indulge in a false sense of security. Buffy hadn't stopped an apocalypse in _three years_. In _her_ world, that was equivalent to _ten_. It was only a matter of time the next apocalypse rolled around and if it was taking this long, then it was going to be bad one. She could feel it in her bones.

"I'll continue decrypting the text. I may have to expand my resources and delve into a wider range of books ... but you are right about one thing, Buffy. If it does indeed turn out to be ominous, then it can't afford to be neglected."

The blonde slayer nodded. No matter how difficult this dead language was for him, she knew she always count on Giles' reliability. If it really _did_ turn out to be an omen of another apocalypse, Giles would figure out with time to warn them. He always did.

"It's truly astounding. Two years ... and not a one with the world ending." The older man mentioned, a note of disbelief in his voice. "Funny how the threat of impending doom and destruction has become a norm to us." The watcher mused as he drank his tea, amused and tired at the same time.

"You kidding? I still wake up every day expecting the next Big Bad to pop up out of the bushes and hear _'It's the end of the world!'_ " Buffy said in total honesty. She kicked up her legs and crossed them on the uncluttered side of Giles' desk, shaking her head. "Gotta say, not the sabbatical _I_ was expecting."

Giles nodded. "It is strange, isn't it?" He said thoughtfully. "Times have been, more or less, peaceful." He stated with a slight shrug. His tone was firm but still holding that natural disbelief. Like he still couldn't quite believe it.

Buffy didn't react, her mood darkening and becoming practically black as the words brought back memories. Memories she tried so hard to forget. " ... Not peaceful enough." The words were a ghost of a whisper, but the raw regret and sadness in heart was as loud and drowning as if she had screamed it.

Giles heard. His expression fell too, quiet a moment. " ... Ah, yes. The stand against Wolfram & Hart in Los Angeles." The watcher broke the silence, looking solemn. He hesitated, then, " ... Angel and Spike." Giles said with a touch of regret, the two words coming out in a small sigh.

The blonde slayer's lower lip wobbled, finally hearing the two names no one ever dared say since two years ago. It was only until later she found out about Angel's plan to infiltrate the evil law firm and destroy them from the inside. It had backfired spectacularly until the last act, where Angel and his crew fought against Wolfram & Hart. Their _final_ battle. They saved the city and saved the world ... at the cost of their lives. And Buffy hadn't been there.

She still remembered the day she got the news like it was yesterday. Angel's son, Connor, had contacted her and told her about his father's death, along with the rest of the crew. Spike being alive had been a shock (not that it mattered, considering he had got himself killed _again_ ). For the first time the whole year, Buffy understood everything. Why they took over Wolfram & Hart, Angel's plan ... all of it. Buffy knew neither Angel or Spike would've preferred going out any other way.

Her absolute devastation had been hard to stand. Overcome with everything she knew, everything she was wrong about, and to have it thrown at her at once when it was already too late ... how Buffy had made it through that day or the days after that would forever remain a mystery to her. Those first six months had been her own personal hell. She couldn't break. She couldn't even find time to cry. She had the slayers to worry about. If Buffy let herself be too weak, she'd make rest of them weak too.

No one understood of course. Her friends had been sympathetic, but none of them were close to Angel and Spike or even particularly liked them. Even Dawn, who had once been so bonded with Spike, got over his death quick enough. Andrew had been upset over Spike, but it was obvious through the eccentric stories and the "advice" he told the slayers now he was dealing.

So Buffy did the only option left to her: keep up a strong face, keep it together, and above all never let her grief of losing the two vampires she had loved so much get in the way of who she needed to be. That was her promise to herself. Only ... _that_ day ... she broke that promise.

Anguish pierced the blonde slayer and immediately came danger. _No ... no. I'm_ not _thinking about that. Not with Giles here._ She thought, desperately trying to shake off her emotions. It was too much. That was the memory lane right now she just couldn't walk down.

Giles lowered his eyes, looking sad. "The choices Angel and Spike made that day ... were very noble. Selfless." The watcher began solemnly. "They deserved more credit than what they given. Far more from all of us, including myself." The older man admitted, shaking his head as a hint of remorse shown in his eyes.

" ... They died saving the world." Somehow out of her tormented thoughts that was the only one that came out. _And I should've been there._ Buffy thought with a heavy heart, unable to staunch the flow of guilt.

" ... Yes, they did." Giles agreed and that was all he said, a compassionate set to his features as he stared at her steadily. It was as if he intuitively understood every thought and feeling she was having, even though it's been two years since the fate of Angel and Spike had been known and Buffy had never said a word about it to anyone.

Silence passed between them. Buffy didn't dare break it, lost in her quiet misery. It was almost unreal to her how something that happened two years ago could still affect her so much. It was as if something in her had broken that day and no matter how hard she tried since, she just couldn't fix it.

"Whatever apocalypse may be next ... the odds won't be stacked against us the way they were. The way Angel, Spike, and the others died from." Giles stated suddenly. The blonde snapped out of her catatonic grief just enough to look at him. "There are slayers, all over the globe now. They get stronger and more resilient every day. Should another evil come, they'll be thwarted. That I'm certain of." The watcher declared strongly. His blue gaze intensified. "There _is_ still hope, Buffy. Promise me no amount of tragedy will let you forget that."

Buffy was silent, staring into the face she had so long regarded as father. Deep love and appreciation for Giles sparked in her as she saw the optimism and sincerity in his eyes. She missed this. Missed talking to Giles like this. The way his words wrapped around her like a security blanket and for one moment anything seemed possible.

"... I won't." The blonde promised sincerely, her eyes tearing a bit. Watcher and slayer smiled, taking silent comfort from each other.

At last Buffy wiped her eyes. "And you're right. The slayers are getting stronger." She acknowledged. The small blonde swung her legs off the table and stood up, more serious now as she meet her watcher's eyes. "But they still need to be _better_." Buffy said firmly.

She held Giles' gaze for a second, then headed out without another word, leaving Giles to keep up his translation on the tablet. She ventured through the castle halls and passing some of her slayers before at some point ending up to the top corridors. Buffy shoved open the wooden door, revealing another small balcony.

Cold, Scottish hair hit her face as she stepped out. The plains in front of her were a wide, expanse of green fields. Not a living creature appeared on the fields, settling into an strange yet somehow peaceful quiet. The sun sunk low in the sky, turning it into a fiery orange. Faint clouds complimented it. Buffy leaned on the balcony, her arms resting on it as she overlooked the scenery. It was beautiful.

The beauty, however, couldn't quiet the slayer's stormy thoughts. Now that Angel and Spike had been uprooted from the darkest corners of her mind, they would not leave. Buffy had so many regrets between them, between _both_ of them. Questions she never asked, things she never said, things she _wished_ she never said. It physically hurt, going over the long list of things that could've ended differently between them if she had just tried harder. Now none of them would ever know.

Sometimes, when she was all alone, all Buffy could think about was how she wished she had been there with them in their final fight. Even if she had died too, at least she had set one thing with them right. She hadn't been there for them when they needed her most. Deep in her heart, Buffy felt like she had failed them. They had loved her, she knew, to their dying moments. When it was all said and done, what had she given them in return?

The blonde's stomach churned, knowing it never could've been that easy. What _could_ she had done back then? She couldn't leave behind her slayers, especially then when they were still barely trained. Her duty needed to come first after all. She had forgotten that, for one day, and she'd never forgive herself for what happened. Ever since, Buffy was guilty _feeling_ guilty over the vampires because it felt like a betrayal to her slayers. How could she consider leaving them for the vampires' sake when they were her responsibility?

Her heart grew heavier. It seemed everything L.A-related ended in heartache. In the case of Dana, the insane slayer Andrew had retrieved from there for example. Not even going in to the fact Buffy effectively felt crap and responsible for calling this poor girl who had so much trauma, to add insult to injury she disappeared, right in their care only a year ago. Buffy had searched and searched for her with the others slayers, but she was never found. Like she was wiped off the face of the Earth. Yet another thing she managed to screw up.

Buffy sighed. In a series of very bad patches in her still relatively short life, this one had to be one of the worst. Three years of isolation, repressing her emotions, keeping these slayer united—all of which at expense of her own relationships—was just too much. She was just tired, so _tired_. Tired of the sacrificing, tired of a whole new level of responsibility, all of it. She just wanted to be Buffy. She wanted her life back. She wanted to be a _person_ again.

Yet again, the blonde wondered what the hell she thought she was doing. Her Slayer Organization had garnered bad press and been hunted, might even still be. She had gotten at least seven of her slayers killed. Dana was MIA. Buffy ruined her own sister's chances of a normal life by taking her out of college and couldn't even send her back to California. If Xander and Giles could be so positive about what she's doing and the difference she was making, then why did Buffy still feel like she was screwing it all up?

 _Am I even the right person to be doing this? I mean, am I_ really _helping these girls?_ She asked herself, frowning. It didn't feel like it. She got them hunted down by the government and exiled to Europe for God's sake. _Maybe they would've been better off without me. I don't ... I don't know what I'm doing._ Buffy thought ashamedly.

Oddly enough, as much as she hated being a slayer general, that realization hurt her. Buffy had spent so much time and energy into these slayers that the possibility they would be better without her felt like another failure added to an increasingly long list. No matter the circumstance, they were still her _charges_. She didn't want to fail them too. What had it all been for?

Buffy stared into the sunset distantly, feeling a million miles away. _I changed the world on it's slayer axis ... but maybe it changed me too. Maybe now the world is the one that doesn't need_ me _._

* * *

~~Dean~~

Dean stood tensely, his arms crossed as he watched Sam rifle between books and his computer. His younger brother's expression was furrowed in concentration. Their father's journal was beside Sam's computer, opened. Days had passed since the dead demon incident in Michigan. Sam had went to work immediately in trying to classify where the strange sulfur came from. Dean, despite his skepticism, had helped out.

Currently, after scratching off many names of possible monsters off the list, Dean was agitated and knew it confirmed what he knew all along: this thing wasn't anything they've ever faced. Frankly, it was pointless trying further. Sam, however, felt differently and was still being thorough. His little brother was plucky. He'd give him that.

"Well?" Dean finally prompted as Sam flipped through John's journal again.

Sam paused to read one of the pages. Finally he snapped it shut. "Nothing. Not a single mention about a sulfur substance or a monster leaving behind green ectoplasm. Nothing in Dad's journal, not even in the Men of Letters files." He said with a hint of irritation.

"What'd I tell ya?" His older brother responded pointedly, throwing out his hands. "Look, whatever this thing is, it's new on the market. We ain't gonna find it in Dad's journal or notes from a bunch of dead book nerds." Dean reasoned, touching the journal and picking up a book before throwing it back down for emphasis.

"What kind of monster leaves behind sulfur _besides_ demons?"

Dean caught the challenge in his brother's voice, but kept his cool. "We don't know yet." He said casually as he threw out his hands, sitting down in the chair. "Still in twenty questions, Sammy. We'll get there." The older Winchester said flippantly.

"Dean. Literally the only damn lead we _have_ points to demons." The brown-haired hunter replied with an edge, getting impatient. "Why is that so hard for you to wrap your head around?"

"Because there are _rules_ , Sam. Even in our world." Dean answered firmly, serious now. At his brother's still irritated look, the older hunter sighed and crossed his arms on table. "Look. Demons. We _know_ demons. Son of a bitches flock to us like tweens to a 1D concert. If there was one out there like this, don't you think we would've ran into it already?"

Sam paused, still looking tense but clearly considering his words. Finally he shook his head. "It's the only option I can think of, Dean. Yeah, it's weird. Really weird, but you narrow down the search and it's still the only one staying." His brother said matter-of-factly.

Dean scowled at his brother slightly. He didn't know _what_ to think honestly. He just knew he never saw a demon that left behind green goo sulfur. "Alright. We keep butting heads, we're gonna be at this all night." He said briskly, pushing off the table and standing. "We need to call Cas."

Dean didn't miss the flicker of surprise in Sam's face, but ignored it. Castiel may be ass-backwards lately, but they were out of options. The angel had a huge wealth of knowledge about lore. If they had any hope of figuring out what this mystery monster was, he was the best person to ask. There was also a part of Dean, despite the angel's behavior, that just wanted his help again.

For the most part, the hunter hadn't expected him to pick up so he was surprised when he heard Castiel's gravelly voice in his ear. _"Hello, Dean."_

"Cas, hey. Listen, we got a situation over here." Dean began. "Me and Sam were doing a demon case about a week back. It got ... weird." He went on a little more uncomfortably.

 _"Weird how?"_ Castiel sounded serious.

"Just get to the bunker. Sam and I will fill you in."

 _"... I'm already outside."_ His friend said suddenly, surprising Dean. Clearly he had used his angel wings to send himself from wherever the hell he had been before.

Given the supreme warding of the Men of Letters bunker, not even an angel like Castiel could materialize inside. The only way in the place was through the key. When the Winchesters unlocked the secret entrance, the angel was already waiting. Castiel walked in without a pause, his expression determined.

"What happened? Is it Crowley?" The angel asked urgently, turning around to face the brothers at the foot of the stairs.

Dean exchanged a glance with Sam. "You could say that." He replied vaguely.

Sam took over from there. "Dean and I caught a whiff of demons. They were in Novi, Michigan, looking for something. We didn't find out what, but we found _this_." The younger Winchester walked over back to his table, Castiel and Dean following. He grabbed the green sulfur, still in the zip lock bag and showed it to him. Castiel frowned.

"Found it in a mausoleum at the scene. Not ectoplasm, not acid, not sewage, _nothing_." Dean explained meaningfully. His expression became more serious. "Apparently it has _sulfur_ in it." He revealed, unable to keep out the edge of his disbelief out of his voice.

" _Sulfur?"_ The angel looked completely confused.

"Yep. Oh, and best part. The demons? Wasted, six ways from Sunday." The older Winchester elaborated matter-of-factly. "Just left us with this ... mystery special." He grumbled, still not satisfied with the state that case ended up in.

"We didn't catch what did it. Only hint we have is _this_." His younger brother admitted, giving a helpless shrug.

Castiel took the bag from Sam carefully, holding it up for examination. The angel studied it, a thoughtful look on his face.

Dean was impatient. "Look, me and Sam ... we can't make heads or tails of it. That's why we called in you." He prompted him firmly. " ... Cas. _You're_ our tie-breaker." He said with exaggerated meaning, trying to make his face serious.

Castiel looked at Dean, a confused frown on his face. " ... I'm not certain that's necessary. I don't see a rope. If you were, in fact, tied—"

"J-Just figure this out for us, okay?! Turn on your angel brain." The older Winchester cut him off sharply, stuttering a bit in annoyance. He didn't want to bother with his friend's literalness right now.

The angel frowned a second, but obeyed. He opened the bag, touching some of the green goo sulfur with his finger to get a better feel for it. Their friend observed it with an unreadable expression, thinking deeply again. After a long moment, the look on his face become incredibly more serious and tense.

Dean didn't like that look at all. "Cas?"

Castiel's look was grave. "I can't fathom what abomination would leave this."

The hunter didn't need further elaboration. He snapped his fingers in realization. "I knew it. It's a new monster, cooked fresh out of the pot." Dean declared with certainty.

"You're right." His angel friend remarked flatly, his eyes still on the substance.

Dean threw out his arms, looking back at his brother pointedly. "Told you, Sam!"

"So it's _not_ a demon, just something else?" Sam asked incredulously.

"You're wrong." Castiel replied, once again with little inflection.

Dean glanced back at the angel, highly confused. Was he hearing him right? "... Cas, do you we need to go over the difference between right and wrong again?" Dean asked with feeling, giving him a dubious look.

The angel didn't react. "It's ... tainted." He said slowly, confusion in his features. "The sulfur. It's not in it's natural state, but it's still demonic. Something in it's genetic make-up ... it's _mutated_."

"You mean, like a mutant demon? There are _mutant_ demons now?" Dean questioned with an angry edge, completely lost.

"Is it sick? Like demon rabies or something?" This younger brother thought out loud, frowning.

"That would be nonsensical." Castiel replied matter-of-factly.

"Breaking news, Cas!" Dean retorted sarcastically, scowling as he threw out his arms. Like anything about this _wasn't_ ridiculous and making no sense. He shook his head. "Seriously, what the hell is going on?" He grumbled.

"I don't know." Castiel sighed, putting the zip lock bag back on the table. "The mausoleum ... the demons must've been there for a reason. They were on a mission for Crowley, I suppose."

"Yeah, and this freak demon wiped 'em all out." Dean answered, calming a bit as he started to put together the implications. "Connects some of the dots, though. If it's got something else in it's cocktail, maybe that's why it double-crossed their asses."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "It definitely didn't want them to find what they were looking for."

 _Which we still don't know_ crap _about._ The older Winchester thought, dissatisfied. He didn't like this. He didn't like all the questions and the friggin' mutated demon and most of all being in a position where they still couldn't do anything. They didn't even know what this new kind of demon was capable of. It was all new territory.

"You said Novi, Michigan." Castiel mentioned meaningfully. "I'll look around that area for more clues on this strange demon. Hopefully on Crowley's plans as well. I'll be in touch." With the sound of his coat and wings, the angel was gone.

Dean stood there, staring at the spot his friend had been. Finally he turned to his brother, who looked just as done and overloaded as he felt. "Well, jury's out." He began, grabbing his half-drunken beer off the table and forcing a smile. "Mutant demon. Did _not_ see that one coming." He said meaningfully as he sat back down, taking a gulp of his beer.

His brother gave a quiet scoff, sitting down in front of him. "Yeah, no kidding. I mean, I've thought we've seen it all, but ... wow." Sam replied in disbelief.

The overwhelmed feeling was starting to break through his attempts to be flippant. "What the hell, man. I mean, _this_? What happened to the old playbook? Are the rules different, I mean does it die a different way?" Dean said out loud, completely frustrated.

"Cas said it was _still_ a demon." Sam responded.

"Do you think he was lying? Ever since Purgatory, he hasn't exactly been _Old Reliable_." His older brother pointed out, ignoring the part of him that hated the truth in that. He had to be realistic. Something was up with his best friend. He was hiding things and he had to second-guess his stories, especially one as ridiculous as this.

"Why would he lie, Dean?" His younger brother said in all seriousness, giving him a skeptical look.

 _Ain't that the million dollar question._ The older hunter thought humorlessly. He shook his head. "I don't know." He admitted tiredly, taking another swig of his beer.

Maybe he was just imaging it. It wasn't like Dean had been the picture of sanity when was fresh off Purgatory. Hell, he _still_ wasn't. But his gut told him it was more than that and no matter how hard he tried to let it go to trust his friend again, it still stayed.

"At least Crowley got bit in the ass. Almost makes this whole crapfest worth it." Dean brought up, trying to lighten it. He had to admit. Seeing the look on Crowley's face when he realizes his demons were snuffed out and his mission went to hell (and not literally) would've been priceless.

Sam nodded, but Dean could tell by the tense look in his eyes he just wasn't feeling it. The older Winchester gave up and lowered his eyes. There wasn't much in this situation to make look better. They had a new demon, no lead on Crowley, no idea what he was after, and just more questions. The case had been crap.

Unease wormed it's way into Dean like poison. Whatever that mystery demon was, whatever he was after, whatever was different about it ... the hunter knew a storm was coming.

* * *

 **A/N: There's the first chapter! :) I hoped you liked it. Writing the SPN characters is a new thing for me so if you guys ever have any tips, just tell me. I try to live up the canon characters as much as possible in all my writings. Unless your new storyline changes them gradually, they should be the way they're meant to be IMO. **

**Buffy's storyline, not including the eventual Dean/Buffy romance, is going to very, very complex. As you guys read, she's started off with a lot more demons: guilt, isolation, lack of purpose, and loneliness. This fic is going to expand on that and widen as it goes on, especially in how much the missing three years affected her. Her character arc, though eventually crosses with Dean's, still stands alone as Buffy and her love relationships in the series always has been.**

 **To Buffyverse fans, yes, sadly Angel and Spike are dead. It was not easy. I love them both _so much_ and ship them both with Buffy (On that spectrum, I'm sometimes thankful Buffy/Dean are crack because I'd never be able to chose between all three). I actually got a little emotional writing the Giles and Buffy section. There was just no place for them in this fic. I didn't want to write a love quad. Obstacles for Buffy/Dean getting together is caused enough by themselves without needing some outside source (and believe me, when you read more, you'll agree with me). Angel and Spike will have a silent presence though. They're a major conflict of Buffy's, along with her relationship to the Slayer Organization ("the mistake in L.A.").**

 **Before you read too far, this is important to know. Yes, the Buffyverse and the Supernaturalverse are set in different worlds. I wanted to make a realistic crossover. Buffy, Dean, or Sam would've hunted each other's monsters if they could be in the same universe, but their monsters and mythology are just too different to fuse together believably. In this fic, they're alternate universes. The years are also irregular (if you follow Buffy's timeline it's 2006, but in the Supernatural world it's set in 2015). All that will be explained later in the story.**

 **So there's the set-up. A lot of the story's seeds are planted in this chapter for the future. I'm very excited to write this story. :D I have so many ideas for it and already planned a lot of it out. Like I said though, it's more than a Buffy/Dean love story. Buffy, Dean, Sam, and even Castiel will all have their own character arcs. It's very "season"-like.**

 **NEXT CHAPTER:** On a night of patrolling that started out very typical, Buffy's slaying goes awry. The slayer is uprooted from her Scotland home and thrust into unknown territory with no explanation and no one to turn to. Desperate, Buffy sets out to find help. Dean and Sam are investigating another demonic omen, encountering a stranger they can't decide is friend or foe.

 _ **Reviews, favorites, and follows are appreciated!**_


	2. Chapter 2: Not Not In Kansas Anymore

**A/N:** Hey guys! :) New chapter up. Last chapter was definitely more of a prelude chapter, setting up the conflicts of the characters and the upcoming plot points. This chapter is when plot starts to thicken ... and the _real_ setting of this story can begin. I hope you like this one, and I'm really happy at the support! :D I know this has a more specified audience (There's a Buffy and Supernatural fan, but not everyone is both), but I really love writing this story. With the direction I plan to go with this fanfic, I can easily say this will be one of my best.

 **Disclaimer:** **All rights belong to Joss Whedon and Eric Kripke. This is only for entertainment.**

 _ **Open to Constructive Criticism/OOC thoughts!**_

* * *

 _Not Not in Kansas Anymore_

~~Buffy~~

Buffy scaled a large crypt, embedding her slayer scythe into one of it's ridges to hoist herself up. The blonde slayer landed on top in a crouch, unhooking her scythe effortlessly as she was given an impressive view of the large graveyard. The light of the moon shone down, turning the land to silver. The edge of the axe on her scythe glinted in the moonlight.

A week had passed since her talk with Giles. The outbreak of Porriggo Hounds was finally started to diminish, snuffed out by the squads of slayers, many of which Buffy had led herself. The patrol of slayers to the states hadn't returned yet. Buffy had given them strict orders to stay hidden and be as covert as possible. Last she heard of them, all sets of three were alive and slowly but surely cleansing the demon infestation.

Dawn wasn't talking to her again. Xander was being pushy and effectively lectured her on her "pit-bull" approach to anything involving a sister. Buffy ignored it all. While she fely bad and knew she could've handled it better, the thing that mattered most to Buffy was knowing that Dawn would sulk it out for at least another week. For once in her life, she had decided not to push her.

The blonde slayer overlooked the landscape alertly, checking for any immediate signs of newly risen vampires. Catching none, she leaped down the crypt and cautiously began searching for the tell-tale signs of disturbed dirt and snarling.

Buffy's mood was considerably better. She hadn't done a proper staking in at least four months. Demons were abundant. Vampires? Not so much. Buffy suspected her calling of the slayers was dwindling their numbers or at least sent a lot of them into hiding. When the resource team had reported signs of vampire activity around Scotland, it had been a pleasant surprise.

It was back to the basics: vampires. No slayer armor, no slayer squad, no fancy tech. Just Buffy, a stake, and a graveyard. A strange sort of peace had settled over her. If her life can never be normal, then at least she'd have _her_ version of normal.

The small blonde jumped on top of another crypt for a better vantage point. _Of course, this gig was easier when I had a slay buddy._ Buffy thought wistfully. Angel, Spike, and Riley once had filled that role. They hadn't just helped her slay, but gave her someone to talk to. They listened to her problems. It had saved her from a lot of lonely patrolling nights.

Buffy was jolted out of memory lane. Four vampires were emerging from one of the crypts, catching the slayer who was in plain sight. Snarls and voices of hated recognition erupted, their faces instantly shifting into their "game faces". _Jackpot._ The slayer's expression hardened and she leaped off the crypt.

"Hey, guys. Long time no see." The blonde greeted casually as she approached. One of the vampires, she could tell the youngest, lunged. Buffy dodged and kicked him from behind, unbalancing it. She swung her scythe and beheaded him in one clean stroke. Her eyes locked on the other ones. "Aw. I missed you too." She deadpanned.

The three remaining vampires attacked. The blonde hit one bluntly with the middle of her scythe, then elbowed another forcefully. Before the third could close in, Buffy embedded the stake side of her scythe directly in her heart. She wasn't given enough time to watch it turn to dust when the second bear-hugged her from behind, lifting her off the ground. Buffy squirmed and lost her grip on her scythe, the tight hold straining her stomach.

"So _you're_ her. The _real_ bitch slayer." The third vampire breathed close to her neck, his fangs uncomfortably close. "You called all those damned slayers. You're the reason our kind keeps dropping like flies!" He accused, rage in his voice.

 _Okay._ Enough of this.

"I am?" Buffy tried to wrench his hands away, succeeding for just enough space. "Oops." She struck him harshly in the stomach, free of his grasp. " _Darn_. See, I'm _really_ trying to feel sorry about that." She mocked further as she threw out her hands, kicking up her scythe. "But I think I lost my spell receipt somewhere in a crater." Buffy knocked the vampire the ground, lunging with her scythe. "Here, let me make it up to you."

"Edward! Help!" The vampire below her shrieked to the other one, who was still recovering from the burned affects touching the scythe gave vampires.

Buffy stopped abruptly. She frowned. "You know a vampire named _Edward_?" She said incredulously.

Using her moment of distraction, the vampire on the ground tripped her. He was on top of her instantly, his fangs aiming for her neck. Buffy fended him off, grabbing his hands to keep him away from feeding off her. The two struggled against each others' strength a moment until finally the blonde rolled and flipped them over. Straddling him, Buffy pulled out a spare stake in her jean pocket and jammed it right in the heart.

The blonde slayer raised her head, glaring up at the last vampire. He had short, thick, dark hair and a delicate-looking face, but definitely big-looking and strong. He was closing in, his game face on and now having fully recovered from her last attack. His golden eyes gleamed with purpose and dark promise.

Buffy stood up cautiously, reclaiming her scythe. "Sorry about your friends." She began, gesturing to the specks of dust littered across the graveyard soil. "You ever trying changing your name? I mean, after _that_ horror show, Edward is ... well, only my bunny slippers are running." The blonde slayer snarked, nodding her head meaningfully.

"Edward" blinked, looking confused. "That has always been my name."

The slayer smirked. "Good for you. Everyone likes a little dose of laughingstock vampire." She quipped, readying her scythe as her expression steeled back to 'slay' mode. As fury spread across Edward's face, Buffy vaulted back in the foray.

Buffy and Edward fought. Despite the vampire's humiliating name, the slayer quickly realized he was a lot stronger than he looked. Every punch and kick she tried to land, he responded with a block or counterattack of his own. At one point, when Buffy was close to staking his heart, he had dodged and hit her hard in the face with a gravestone. Buffy had recovered quick enough for a solid roundhouse kick, but it had still surprised her.

It was at this point Buffy figured out she wasn't dealing with an every day fledge or one only a few decades old. Edward was a little older, probably closer to Spike's age when he died. Interesting ... but not good.

The blonde slayer swung in wide arcs with her scythe. Edward dodged her swings, though one narrowly got his head. He charged, grabbing her scythe with lightning movement and wrenching it away. Ignoring the burning of the scythe (the patented holy water-like effect if any vampire dared touch it), he pinned her against the wall of the crypt. He pushed the scythe towards her neck with bruising force. The slayer struggled.

He leaned into her, the gritting of his teeth and twitching muscles the only indication of the pain. " ... I hear your boyfriends bit the dust. What was their names again?" Edward suddenly brought up, mockery in his voice. Buffy tensed. "Ah, yes. Angelus and Spike. The famous two."

The blonde slayer stare on him was as cold and icy as a glacier. The look of raw fury and promise of death in her eyes should've been enough for him to quit talking and take his kill already, but unfortunately this vampire was stupid.

"You know, I crossed paths with them once or twice. Truly amazing beasts of destruction, they were." Edward's hands started to steam and shake from the scythe, but his voice was still even. He pushed the scythe deeper towards her, making them both wince. " ... But then they met _you_. You broke them. Made them weak. Filled them with delusions of grandeur and warped them to going out do-gooders. Destroyed _legends!_ " There was pure disgust in his voice. "I guess, in a way, ... you were the one that killed them."

Buffy inwardly shriveled, her still-raw guilty conscience dug up and left out again to bleed. If only she could believe that wasn't true. It felt like even agreeing with that in her head would still give him the satisfaction, but her heart was just too bruised. It was like getting pierced with a shard of glass shattering on impact, infecting every crevice and making sure it would never heal. She did. She _did_ kill them.

"Serves them right. I always knew you would be the death of them." Edward said in pure cruelty, smirking.

The lashes to her soul seemed worse and worse with every word, but Buffy refused to show that weepy little girl inside. She stared at him directly in the eyes, showing nothing but her rage and disgust.

Suddenly Edward's eyes widened. An orb had sailed in their direction, hitting him right in the back. The pressure on Buffy's neck left as he lost his handle on the scythe. Not asking any questions, the blonde slayer shoved the paralyzed vampire away. She upper-cutted him, then kicked him with fierce strength. He crashed to the ground.

The blonde slayer snatched her scythe and advanced, radiating with fury. Without hesitation, Buffy staked the immobile vampire. He gasped. The blonde slayer watched with cold calculation. "... Angel and Spike were twice the man you _ever_ were." She said in low anger. Soon enough, dust was all she saw.

"I thought you needed an hand."

Buffy raised her head at the voice. Willow was levitating (a new magic skill of hers she had obtained over the years) in front of her, her arms crossed and dressed in a long, flowing light green-and-white dress. A choker was around her neck and she wore a green corset, looking as wiccan as was ever possible.

The red-head smiled softly at the slayer's dumbfounded expression. "Hey, Buffy. Been a while?"

Willow landed in front of her softly. Buffy could still only stare a moment, certain she was dreaming. Reality crashed down on her.

 _"Wil!"_ Buffy cried in immediate realization, throwing her arms around her best friend fiercely as happy tears pricked her eyelids.

Willow hugged more tentatively. "Buff ... ease up a little on the bear hug, y'know."

Sensing the pained strain in her best friend's voice, Buffy let go and pulled back to get a better look at her. Willow relaxed, letting out a breath and looking a bit embarrassed. The blonde slayer hardly noticed. For the first time in a long while, her eyes were bright and a feeling she dimly remembered as happiness swelled inside.

"It's been so long ... how you've been?" The blonde slayer asked with a smile, still holding her arms. "Tell me. Tell me _everything_. The good, the bad, the ugly."

"Mostly of the good." Willow began thoughtfully, nodding. "Just been keeping the witch punch in the slayer squads in the field. They need a little magic morale." The red-headed witch's green eyes sparking with enthusiasm. "I'm like a, a witch _Pai Mei_! Y'know, without the misogyny and racism and little funny pin sticking out ..."

"Good to know." Buffy said in amusement, cutting off her friend's rambling. "How's finding covens going?"

"Oh, uh, real good! I recruited some at least, thirty percent of the time." Her best friend answered in forced optimism.

"Which is better than the twenty- _five_ percent three months ago. Progress." The small slayer replied dryly.

Willow looked uncomfortable. "Covens are real secret-society types. They're pretty squeamish ... and paranoid. " She admitted a bit regretfully. "But I've just been finding the meanies. I'm sure there's nice ones out there to join the Slay Crew. Y'know, get over that whole ... terrorist-y vibe."

Buffy forced a smile, hiding her sudden dismay. Once again, her little band of slayers continued to get bit in the ass. Even after two years of no direct conflict, the government was still finding new ways to tear down their image. It was even affecting covens' opinions of them now, which were massive allies for them to have.

"So, uh, you're patrolling! For vampires ... with actual stakes." Willow changed the topic quickly, smiling nervously. The blonde slayer had the dim sense she hadn't hid her own discomfort as well as she thought.

"Easy. I'm still recovering from _that_ heart attack." The slayer quipped back, smiling more genuinely. She looked back at the dusty remains littered across the graveyard. "Eh, it was just your typical batch. Except for _Twilight_ over here ... Edward." She explained with more bitterness, gesturing vaguely to the cloud of dust behind her.

Willow smiled. "His name was _Edward_?"

"All the more reason he _had_ to be staked." Buffy said in deep feeling, giving her a look.

The red-head frowned slightly. "Y'know, I never really understood why you hated it. I mean, I get the movies. But Edward was so much like ..." She went on in confusion, trailing off under the might of Buffy's withering stare. " ... wasn't like him at all." Willow finished quickly, nodding nervously.

 _That's what I thought._ Buffy thought, disgusted at _that_ particular comparison. She held her stare on her friend a moment more before they started walking together through the graveyard. "So anything else new in _Wil Meets World_?" She prompted as she crossed her arms, back to casual conversation.

"Just the world." Willow quipped. "In the demon-free downtime, I was able to tourist some. The Coliseum, those funny Easter Island Heads, the Parthenon. Oh, and Stonehenge? Really is just a pile of rocks by the way." She told her cheerfully.

Buffy shook her head, smiling in amusement. "The history buff in you just never dies, does it?"

"You're darn tootin'." Willow replied meaningfully, nodding adamantly. Excitement sparked in her eyes. "It's been great, Buffy. Visiting all these historical sites ... and helping while I'm at it. Before I was small-town girl. Sometimes just _room_ -girl." She reflected, smiling wider. "Now I got the wind in my hair and making a world of difference."

Something sank in Buffy then. Difference. _There_ was that word again. _It looks like everyone really has found their mission._ The blonde slayer realized.

Her closest friends finally found real purpose and the closest thing for them to peace. For them, it was a new start. The pains of Sunnydale and trials of the Scooby Gang were light years away. Even with the exile to Europe, nothing broke their spirits.

Buffy tuned Willow out as she went on and on about the sites' historical value, her thoughts clouding. Why couldn't she feel it too? She could barely even manage to be happy for them. _Is there something wrong with me?_ The small blonde wondered ashamedly. How could she be this selfish?

"What about you?"

Roused out of herself, the blonde turned distractedly to her friend. "What?"

"What about you?" Willow repeated in friendly camaraderie, seemingly oblivious to the storm raging in the slayer's mind.

Buffy gained her wits. "Well ... me and the other slayers have been cleaning up after the Porrigo outbreak. Even the states patrol, factoring in actual _states_ , are flushing them out, big on the cool and discrete." The small blonde informed matter-of-factly.

"Well, that's great, Buff. Really great." Willow replied with a strange pitch, giving her a cursory glance. "But I mean _you_ you, not Slayer general you."

 _What's the difference?_ Only the look of concern in Willow's eyes stopped Buffy from uttering the thought. She half-shrugged awkwardly. "You know me. Same old, same old. Generaling all day, every day." Buffy brushed off in practiced flippancy. "Maybe I should get one of those medals, y'know. Like _'Most Fashionable General'_ or _'Medal of Pointing and Scowling'_." The blonde slayer said jokingly.

"Buffy ..." Willow stopped walking, giving her a long look.

"Right. Not on the military friends' list. Besides, they probably have, like, _no_ sense of humor." Buffy acknowledged with a casual frown, purposely misinterpreting her best friend's admonishing expression.

"I can read the joke subtext." The red-head said, her green gaze serious. The blonde slayer froze guiltily, waiting for the witch to continue. " ... You're doing great, Buffy. These girls and their slayer skills are growing like weeds! I've seen it. And it's because of you. You don't need to keep worrying." Willow said earnestly.

 _If only it was that simple._ Buffy thought wearily. " ... And it's because of _me_ that they can't set one foot in the U.S. without getting hunted down." The blonde said regretfully, her look meaningful.

"That wasn't your fault!" Her best friend argued. "It was the government. They're big, paranoid, scaredy-cats and they should've given you a chance! Who cares what they think? _Pfft_!" Willow went on passionately, her expressive face twisted in a scowl.

"They're afraid ... and they're wrong." Buffy agreed, serious. She shook her head. "But the girls don't deserve this, Wil. Maybe if I just cut them loose earlier ... maybe some of them would still be able to go home."

"I don't hear them complaining." The witch pointed out, frowning. "Buffy, the slayers love it here! Fighting, travelling, living their birthright. None of them blame you. And you've taught them so _much_ about being a slayer! Without you, _who knows_ where they would've ended up."

Buffy said nothing, considering the words. Willow was right at least partly. The slayers had needed someone to explain their power and teach them how to not to abuse it. Who had been better at that than her? But no matter how hard she tried, her best friend's warm words couldn't touch her heart completely.

 _I know where Dana ended up ... and those seven slayers. Because of me._ The blonde slayer thought, the weight of failure crushing. She certainly hadn't helped them. Whatever the seven slayers had learned from her had only gotten them killed. Buffy didn't even know what happened to Dana. How could anyone, even Willow, deny what was right in front of them?

"Come on, Buffy! Where's Miss Brightside?" Her friend looked pained.

Buffy sighed. "I think I lost her a couple apocalypses ago."

Willow's face brightened. "See! There's a shiny! No apocalypse."

"Don't _jinx_ it." The blonde slayer remarked, slightly glaring.

"Oh, don't rain on your own parade." Willow responded, her brows drawing together sternly. "Things could be a lot worse, Buffy! No apocalypse is a plus. And you really _aren't_ screwing things up. You gotta kick Debbie Downer out sometimes, y'know." The red-headed witch advised, empathetic now.

The blonde slayer watched her friend guiltily. Willow was trying so hard to cheer her up. "Got it. Debbie Downer evicted." Buffy assured firmly, spreading out her arms. "No apocalypse is good. It's just ... you save the world as much as I have and you start to get a panic button."

"Believe me, I know. Been part of the World-Saving-Crusaders myself." Her best friend agreed, smiling ruefully. "Luckily I've come to eventually embrace the liberating land of retirement." She stated light-heartedly.

"Guess I'm the only one who still needs therapy then." Buffy quipped, sitting down on one of the more sturdier gravestones. She looked up at Willow, shifting her expression into a curious one. "How are things between you and Kennedy?"

Willow blinked and blushed a bit. "Great. Really _great_. I mean, she's not that all into the history stuff or ... diplomacy with the covens, but she's trying. She's really helped me with the slayers. " The red-headed witch informed, sounding awkward but sincere.

"Let me guess. The slayers find a couple demons and Kennedy elects herself faux general." Buffy remarked without looking at her friend, absentmindedly scraping the lingering vampire dust off the edge of her scythe.

"Just let her pretend." The witch told her in fond weariness, shaking her head.

The blonde slayer half-nodded. Kennedy had this impeccably annoying habit to question Buffy's orders and act like she's boss, but she had stubbornly stuck around when the Slayer Organization was formed. Whether it was just for Willow or wanting to be a part of something in general she didn't know. However, there was no denying she had natural talent for a slayer. Buffy just felt sorry for any squad being subjected to her constant ego.

"So you're happy?" The blonde slayer prompted, looking back at her.

Willow smiled. "I am."

Buffy paused, studying the red-headed witch. It was no smokescreen. She truly _was_ happy. Even after the tragedy with Tara, her best friend had still found stability. In that respect, maybe that's why Kennedy was good for her. Finally the slayer smiled. "That's good."

She meant it. With the way their lives were, Buffy sometimes wondered if they were all just meant to be miserable and alone. What was the point of being with someone when it was just going to end badly? Seeing little moments of a lasting relationship like this made her glad. Buffy no longer saw it as hope for herself. She knew her fate. It was just nice to see at least one of them happy.

"So what about you?" The red-headed witch asked suddenly, startling Buffy. Willow crossed her arms, smirking a bit. "Need to fill me in on any juicy, love life tidbits?" She asked teasingly.

"Dry as the Sahara. Don't even bother." Buffy said with feeling, her lips twitching wryly.

The red-headed witch smiled sympathetically. "That bad, huh?"

"My only _dates_ are with demons ... and the occasional vampire." The blonde slayer went on matter-of-factly. She raised her scythe slightly. "My wingman usually being this." Buffy remarked, gesturing to her weapon with her free hand.

"... Maybe that can change a little?" Willow offered hesitantly with an supportive smile.

Buffy gave her a look. " _Yes._ Let me just pencil in five minutes a day in my busy schedule to talk to some random hottie. A guy that knows my slayerness, my daily dosage of monster-killing, and running an organization of super girls and says _'Hey, I like you!_ '" The blonde summed up sarcastically, swinging her arm.

"It's happened before." Her best friend pointed out patiently.

 _Yeah, and how well did_ those _work out?_ She thought skeptically. Buffy had three major relationships in her life and they all ended badly. Two left town, two died (both twice, but who's counting), and her only serious human boyfriend was now married. Her track record was a disaster. How Willow could still find something salvageable in her tattered remains of a love life was beyond her.

Buffy shook her head. "Let's be realistic, Wil. I don't have the time."

"Sure you do, if you tried." The red-headed witch encouraged. At the blonde slayer's skeptical expression, Willow softened. "You really need to start looking. Find someone new. It's been so long since ... Maybe a new guy would take the edge off all that new kind of stress." She suggested. Sympathy sparked in her eyes. "Buffy ... you spend too much time alone."

Buffy said nothing. She hadn't had anything even resembling a relationship since Spike died the first time. When the Slayer Organization was first being formed, she hadn't had any time whatsoever to think about that stuff. And then when Angel and Spike died _again_ ... a lot of her interest in her love life must've been buried somewhere in the ruins of L.A.

Willow was right about one thing though. Buffy did spent a lot of time alone and she certainly felt it's toll. Companionship and connecting with someone again ... she missed that. Some nights were harder than others. Not that that changed anything.

"I live in a castle with hundreds of girls. I think _'lonely'_ is the least of my worries." The blonde slayer responded dismissively. When her friend still didn't look all that convinced, Buffy turned back to her meaningfully. "I have an _army_ to worry about now, Wil. Cupid's arrow isn't hitting it's mark on my _any_ time soon."

Why couldn't her friend just understand that? With all the problems with the U.S. government, the steadily increasing population of demons, and leading at least eight hundred slayers, her love life _needed_ to be nonexistent. Her relationship with her own sister was even suffering from that.

"Buffy ... you've been a Slayer _Leigh Anne Hester_ for three years. And I get it, you got the Mama Bear Complex going, but the slayers ... they've come so far! Pulling back a notch and letting them leave the nest ... that's not always bad, y'know?" The red-headed witch appealed hopefully, smiling slightly.

"I don't _mother_ them, Wil." How was barking orders day and night and bossing them around in touch with her maternal side?

"You mother." Willow insisted, smiling.

Buffy gave her a look. "Is this the part where I say _'They grow up so fast'_?" She said sarcastically.

"You've given up a lot for the slayers, Buffy. Don't think we haven't noticed. But you don't need to monitor them 24/7 anymore. They've grown a lot, and they're happy. You can let yourself be happy once and while too." Willow declared empathetically, sympathy in her green eyes.

Buffy stared at her friend bleakly. 'Happy' wasn't a common Word of the Day for her. For a moment, she tried to entertain the idea of being with a new guy and she only pictured two scenarios. One ended in destroying the life of yet another guy who fell head over heels for her and the other ended with her alone. Not exactly a happily ever after.

The red-headed witch watched with quiet dismay. Silence settled between them a moment " ... It's Angel and Spike, isn't?" Willow suddenly brought up softly, sounding sure. Buffy startled, looking at her with wide eyes. Her friend smiled sadly. "I know it's more than the busy bee 'tude. You haven't been the same ever since ... y'know."

The blonde slayer lowered her eyes, her unreadable expression not matching the kaleidoscope of misery and frustration wringing her heart. Everyone automatically seemed to know much she _hadn't_ moved on from their deaths. Her defense mechanisms had been up to an eleven these past couple years and they still failed her. It just wasn't fair.

" ... They died doing what they were supposed to. Could've just as easily been me." Buffy said resignedly.

Willow's stare grew forceful. "No. No, you don't get to be Push-Away Girl with me, missy!" She began sternly, waggling her finger. "Buffy, it's okay. They were special to you. And Angel and Spike ... they were good guys! I'm not judging. Do you see my Judgy Face?" The witch pointed to her face, which was determined and sympathetic.

Buffy gazed at her tiredly. She knew Willow wouldn't judge. She never did. The problem was Buffy herself. She just didn't want to dig up that can of worms (or maybe at this point it was a can of _snakes_ ). When she ignored it and pretended she was fine ... it was just simpler.

"Buffy ... you barely even said anything about it since you got the news. That's _scary_." Actual sparks of worry were in her best friend's eyes. "Don't keep trying to bottle. You remember what happens when you do that, don't you? It comes back and you get bit right in the patoodie. Bottle is not a friend."

 _Bottle is my best friend right now, Wil._ Buffy thought wearily. There was so many feelings inside her locked away. It was exhausting holding it all in, but it was still the only thing keeping her going. Buffy couldn't open up on really _anything_ that was troubling her, let alone her regrets with Angel and Spike. It was just too much.

"What happened with Angel and Spike ... there's no way I could've been there. I needed to stay with the slayers." Every word was tore out of her in crippling protest, but her voice was even. "It ... hurt. And I wish things could've turned out different ... but that's the breaks when you live like us. It just happens."

Willow did not look convinced. " _Buffy_ ..."

The blonde slayer stood up, holding her friend's hands loosely down in front of them. Buffy cracked a small smile. "I'm okay, Wil. It's been two years. We all need to move on sometime." She reasoned, trying to sound reassuring.

The red-headed still looked uncertain, studying her face a long moment. " ... There's someone out there, Buffy. Just because it ended badly with Angel and Spike doesn't mean the next guy will be a dud. There's the right guy for you, I know it. You don't need to be alone all the time." Willow mentioned sympathetically.

"I'll keep that in mind." Buffy answered gratefully. Hard as she tried though, she just wasn't really convinced. _'I don't need to be alone ' ... but the only ones who ever really made me feel that way, even for a second ... were Spike and Angel_. They had understood her in ways not even her own friends had. Where would she find that again?

The blonde slayer suddenly tensed, sensing something. Footsteps broke the quiet of the graveyard. Buffy turned in that direction sharply, instinctively gripping her scythe. A lone vampire had appeared, partially hidden behind a crypt. He locked eyes on the slayer and froze.

"Well, look who missed the party." Buffy deadpanned, raising her weapon. Beside her, Willow smiled.

Fear filled his eyes. The vampire turned tail and fled. Buffy frowned incredulously. "I got this one." She told Willow quickly before she could offer, already taking off. _"Hey!"_ She shouted indignantly, chasing the vampire in rapid strides.

Buffy streaked through the graveyard, the gravestones and crypts blurring together. Adrenaline pumped in her veins as she steadily gained on the vampire. She pulled back her slayer scythe, moments away from throwing her weapon at the bloodsucker like a javelin. "You know the saying. When in _Scotland_ —"

Mid-quip, a flash of light invaded her vision. Before she even registered it, the vampire rapidly faded and the world fell out under Buffy's feet. The last she remembered was the sound of Willow's voice calling her name and then everything went dark ...

 **####**

Foggy consciousness befriended the blonde slayer some time later. Uneven, uncomfortably coarse grass had taken the place of the hard graveyard dirt she had expected. Buffy frowned involuntarily, then slowly opened her eyes. The morning sunlight nearly blinded her, streaming into her face.

Wait a minute. _Sunlight_?

Buffy jolted upright, suddenly wide awake. The small blonde was nestled underneath a huge sign, lying on a hard patch of grass and encircled by weeds. The blonde slayer batted the weeds away, her green eyes widening as she got the rest of the view. Nothing but green fields and a few cars buzzing past on a single road leading towards town. Not a graveyard, Scottish village, or certain red-headed witch in sight.

 _Where the hell am I?_ The slayer wasn't hurt as far as she could tell, not from the vampires. It was morning, not night and she wasn't waking up at HQ looking at Willow right now.

 _I've been out cold all night?_ She realized, even more confused. When in the hell had _that_ happened? The last thing she remembered was chasing that vampire. Also, what was up with the weather? It was so humid all of a sudden.

Buffy pulled herself up by the edge of the sign she had woken under. The blonde slayer glanced at it briefly, then did a startled a double take. It was large and rectangular, some of it's white paint peeling off and the letters on it faded. In earth-shattering words, it read, _'Welcome to Lebanon, Kansas! The Center of the U.S.A.'_

Panic was beginning to set in. First of all, she was back in America again. It was pure luck the military hadn't found Buffy while unconscious. Secondly, there was no way Willow could've brought her here. Her friend knew the dangers for her as much as she did, and why Kansas anyway? It must've been someone else and given her situation, probably a new enemy. Thirdly ... she basically had no clue what was going on.

Buffy put her hand on the sign, frowning at it. "Looks like I'm not _not_ in Kansas anymore." She muttered.

Thunder rumbled. The blonde slayer jerked her head up. Dark clouds were forming and lightning split the sky. Harsh, torrential rain followed, soaking into her clothes and ruining her neat thunder sounded again, so deafening this time the blonde slayer actually tensed.

Buffy looked up with narrowed eyes, ignoring the cold already seeping into her body. _Where did this storm even come from?_ She thought. It had been bright and sunny it had been just a moment ago. Buffy didn't consider herself an expert on weather, but something seemed unnatural. She just couldn't put her finger on it.

Hail replaced rain quick enough, falling down on the slayer uncomfortably. She winced slightly when it hit her face and the cars on the road began swerving. Regardless of all her questions, Buffy knew at the moment it wasn't her immediate problem. _Okay._ _Homeward bound or not, I really need to get to some shelter._

* * *

~~Dean~~

Dean crouched low beside his car, tracing his hand along the door. Every unflattering dent he felt underneath his fingers triggered a jolt of disbelief stronger than the last. "No, Baby, no." He said in dismay, travelling down to the backseat door as more dents followed. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Baby. I shouldn't have left you." Dean muttered apologetically as he rubbed the dent, pain for his poor car jutting through him.

Sam was watching him a couple feet away, wearing a dark blue jacket over a dark orange plaid shirt and the picture of disinterest. "It could've been worse." At Dean's accusing look, his younger brother shrugged. "Mother Nature, Dean." He said simply.

"Yeah, well. Mother Nature's a bitch." Dean replied irritably as he stood up, moving around to check his car for more damages.

"You done?" Sam prompted, not impressed.

Shooting his brother a half-hearted glare, Dean forced himself to let it go. The Impala wasn't too banged up, save for the dents from all the hail. The storm had started suddenly yesterday and hadn't let up at all until today. It had been so severe even the hunters confined themselves to the bunker. The news was calling it the worst storm Kansas had seen in four years.

Dean leaned against his car door. Instant irritation rushed through him when he felt the dents, but he controlled it. "Okay, so what was up with last night? It was full-on eye of the storm out there."

"Storms are pretty common around here." The younger hunter began thoughtfully. "It came out of nowhere though. Not even the forecasters predicted it."

"Yeah, and _they're_ always right." Dean muttered, glancing at his car again in some bitterness. Suddenly a thought occurred to him. "We sure this thing was just a storm?" He questioned, glancing at his brother sharply. "What do we know that just pops up out of nowhere and raises hell around the place?"

Sam become more serious. "Demonic omen?"

The older hunter gave a small shrug. "Could be." He replied casually, though his expression was meaningful. "After the hit back in Michigan by that freak whatever it is, what better time for a demon _Bat-Signal_?"

"Yeah, but that was in Michigan. We're in _Kansas_." His younger brother pointed out.

 _True._ Dean acknowledged. It'd been a week since that massacre back at the graveyard and two days since Castiel promised to try to track that new demon. The angel hadn't fed them any new info yet. Granted, a week was more than enough time to travel and Castiel wasn't exactly Dean's most reliable go-to at the moment, but they still didn't have enough information to go on.

"Eh, we need more proof. Could be regular demons, could be our mystery special, or just Bitch Nature." Dean admitted nonchalantly, walking over the driver's seat. "Just saying it seems like a hell of a coincidence if you ask me." He added, opening his door. He stared at the inside, scowling when further consequences of the dents made himself known. _Those evil bastards._

"We should inspect the rest of the damages. See how much the rest of the town got hit." Sam remarked, coming over to the passenger's side. "If it's real bad, then I guess we're know what the culprit was."

Dean wasn't listening, still cursing insults in his head at any demon possibly behind the state of his poor car.

 _"Dean!"_

Dean snapped out of it, raising his head. Sam was looking at him in exasperation. "Yeah." The older hunter agreed distractedly, pulling back and seating himself in the driver's seat. He made a silent promise to himself to douse the dents with boiling water and spruce his car back up when he got the chance.

Sam sat down on the passenger's side. Dean experimentally put his keys into ignition, managing a small smile when the Impala roared to life. "Alright. Let's go clean up after _Hard Rain_ , huh?" The Winchester joked, glancing behind him as he started to back the car out. Sam scoffed.

The Men of Letters bunker was built on the outskirts of city, but the drive to town had still been relatively short. Dean wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but by the time he drove up he had gotten a pretty good picture. At least three car accidents had resulted from the storm. Windows in shops cracked under the hail, but those had been lucky. Many broke and shattered completely. Debris had just started getting cleared off the road. Cars had been dented by the hail and some drove in rickety movement. It was almost a picture out of a disaster movie.

Parking the Impala on a curb, the Winchester brothers stepped out. They rooted themselves to the edge of the street, keeping a careful distance from the thick of the action to get a better view of the whole scene. There wasn't too many people critically injured. Most just had a lot of bruises. There was one ambulance on the far street. It, for intents and purposes, could've been worse.

Problem was, Dean wasn't a glass half-full type of a guy. The whole glimpse of the case made his skin crawl. He had known something was off with that storm. His hunter instincts had screamed all kinds of wrong. Seriousness fell over the Winchester. Sam was pensive beside him and he knew without saying his brother was thinking the same.

"That look like a gift from Mother Nature to you?" Dean said pointedly, solemn.

"It's a demonic omen." Dean could almost hear the sigh in his little brother's voice. "You think it's from that demon?" He asked, turning to his older brother uncertainly.

"What else could it be?" The older hunter answered incredulously.

"We still don't know anything about it ... but a omen, this close to our home base?" Sam began meaningfully, concern in his green eyes. "I mean, if it really is that thing ... doesn't that bother you?"

The older Winchester paused to let the words sink in. His brother was right. That _was_ cause for concern. The Men Of Letters bunker was warded against nearly everything, but this new kind of demon was in an entire different field altogether. That realization startled him. Whatever was different about it, did it make them detectable?

"If our new secret clubhouse is already being tagged ... _great_. Nice going, Men of Letters." Dean muttered, rolling his eyes. They used the bunker as their base not even a full month and already it might've been too good to be true. He almost snorted at their luck. Like he had ever really believed in that secret society warding crap anyway.

"What does it want, Dean?" His brother asked uneasily.

The older hunter said nothing. The weight of the question settled on his shoulders himself. He swept his eyes once again over the disheveled and damaged street, focusing on the shaken and bruised citizens. " ... Well, it ain't gonna be sending us a basket of roses, I'll tell you that much." He answered at last grimly.

Tense silence settled between the brothers, feeding off each other's apprehension and pensiveness like a lightning rod. At last, Sam broke the silence with the sigh. "I guess we'll just have to keep looking. 'Cause it looks like this thing isn't going to give us a break anytime soon." The brown-haired hunter stated wearily.

Dean nodded slowly, already planning out their next moves. The demon was hanging around somewhere, and whatever it was trying to find, one thing was for certain: it was out for blood. Resignation and a tingle of frustration shot through him. He sighed. _Looks like it's back to hitting the net and hitting the books._

* * *

~~Buffy~~

Buffy paced in front of a quilted grayish-brown bed, enclosed by four blank walls. The gray dawn of morning dared to show itself through the window by peaking between the aged blue curtains, but they were firmly shut. Not a single lamp was lit, keeping the room shadowed. The blonde slayer's posture was rigid, arms crossed and deeply troubled.

In the thick of the storm, the blonde slayer managed to reach the nearest motel. Checking in under a different name and "borrowing" a duffel bag in the motel reserves to hide her scythe (she had found it a few feet away from where she woke up) had been relatively easy. Holed up in there for two days and in country out on an international manhunt for her? Not so much with the easy.

Two days. Two days of being caged in by weather, still dressed in the same clothes, and still having absolutely no idea what the hell was going on. Naturally, that had left Buffy alone with the things she hated most: confusion, restlessness, and anxiety. Overall, a lot of thinking and a hell of a lot of nothing to do. When had that ever been her friend?

Buffy sighed, standing in place. Snatching her cell out of her back pocket, she played with it. No signal.

 _Still_ no signal. She called her friends as soon she found shelter, but her phone was completely obsolete. It couldn't have been the storm. Could've had to do with the area. She was in the middle of nowhere and Kansas was the poster _state_ for the middle of nowhere. Whatever the reason, it just flat-out refused to work.

The blonde slayer glanced at the motel phone longingly. She tried that too. All she had gotten was disconnecting beeps and that was only when _no one_ answered. When someone did, it was never one of her friends. In fact, all of them said she had the wrong number when she knew she had gotten them right.

 _None of this can be good ... what if someone finally found our secret hideout?_ Maybe that was why the military hadn't located her yet. They already stormed the castle and were either killing or arresting her friends.

A deep, dark pit opened down in Buffy's stomach. If that was the case, she hadn't been there to protect them. The slayers would fight, but ... how many more of them would die? How many _humans_ would die?

Buffy shook herself, trying to get herself together. She needed _action_ , not stress. If she couldn't reach her friends, then she had to contact them in other ways. If that didn't work, then ship herself off to Scotland and find out for herself. _Okay. So what are my options?_ The blonde thought again, focused.

The Slayer Organization had an emergency contact set up. Buffy also still had slayers deployed in Arizona, Florida, and California. The only problem was that risked exposure. The government could follow the emergency contact through the phone lines and if Buffy used the slayers, she'd attract attention to them like a lightning rod. Buffy was the one America hated most. If she wanted to get herself and _all_ her slayers killed, there would be no better way than that.

 _I am_ not _risking their hides by jumping in and putting 'Kick me' signs on the backs. So check_ those _off the list._ Buffy thought, expression hard with certainty.

After a couple moments assessing the situation, the blonde realized the doors were closing. What else was left? Faith? Her frenemy slash sometimes friend was living in Ohio now, guarding the Cleveland hellmouth and had slipped into obscurity. If Buffy contacted the dark slayer, she could help her evade the government and hitch a ride back to Scotland.

 _Have I really sunk that low to Faith?_ The blonde slayer thought, too weary to care. _That_ was when you knew she was desperate. Resigned to her fate, Buffy didn't complain. She would track down the wayward slayer soon enough ... but not yet.

 _I was sent here for a reason. By another Big Bad or the Powers, I don't know and I don't care. Either way, it all chalks up to one thing: more hoops._ Buffy thought grimly. She knew the game. Ten years of a being slayer and some things never changed. Someone was either out to kill her ... or out to use her. Three years of finally being left alone and it was over. Just like that.

Buffy let out an annoyed breath. Why is that she was just _never_ allowed to _have_ a life? It didn't matter what she did or hard she fought. She always ended up in the same place: standing alone carrying a weapon and beating back some supernatural force.

Her tumultuous thoughts turned back to her friends. Anxiety swallowed back her anger. Buffy couldn't remember a time the organization had ever been this untraceable to her. The silence was eerie. Whatever was going on with her, the uncertainty of not knowing what was happening to them bothered her more.

 _Something's wrong ... I-I have to do something._ Buffy thought uneasily.

She didn't know if the military had anything to do with this, but it certainly made sense. A little striking up a partnership with some random demon to remove her and then attack headquarters? It could happen. If the government had finally taken them down, then it would be everywhere in the papers.

A tangle of fear and reluctance weaved it's way through Buffy when she realized what she had to do. It was reckless, uncertain, and could easily get her locked up or killed ... but if it meant she might find out if her friends were alright, that didn't really matter. She had to go out on the town and start asking questions. It was an uncomfortable level of exposure Buffy hadn't dared try since Los Angeles ... but at least this time the only person to risk was her.

The slayer tried to rationalize it. The government hadn't openly targeted her or the Slayer Organization in at least two years. They may have given up by now and called off the searches, like Xander guessed.

Did Buffy truly believe that?

Hell no.

It _was_ a nice thought for her nerve though.

Buffy walked over to the window, pulling the curtains back. She stared past the motel parking lot to the damaged trees and kicked up debris from yesterday's storm to the small buildings and shops until resting on the cars driving ignorantly on their way. The whole sight looked so normal it was easy to forget the last four years had ever happened, as if she was just on vacation with nothing to worry about but slaying and finding a way back to Sunnydale. She was "home".

Reality set in and with it, the burden on her shoulders. " ... Yep. No place like home." Buffy said tiredly, staring out the window wearily.

 **####**

The blonde slayer walked down a busy little street, blending in with the crowds. Tension pooled in a tight cord in her stomach as she tried to act natural, unable to stop herself from giving brief, superstitious looks around. She had no disguise. No back up. Just her in all her glory, back in her birth country and surrounded by a sea of enemies. She was walking through a minefield and with every step, a bomb could go off.

This was a terrible idea. Truly her worst. Someone could see her, report to police, and next thing you know she'd have a one-way express on _American's Most Wanted_ train. Buffy scoffed ironically. She went to all this trouble telling her slayers to keep to the shadows yet here their general was, out in the open. She couldn't even follow her own advice.

To keep herself from seriously considering she was having another dumb blonde attack, Buffy busied herself with studying the streets. When she was deeper into the city, she eventually found a local bar called _Midwest Goods_ on the far side.

 _Original._ The small blonde slayer thought dryly, staring at the sign.

If she wanted to figure out if the Slayer Organization was still in hiding, then this place would be it. A demon bar would've been nicer. She wouldn't have to worry about subtleties and could just beat the information out, but she guessed this would do.

 _I need to know what happened to my friends._ _Time to mingle and go fishing._ Buffy resolved.

Of course, there was that _tiny_ hitch all her questioning would get her recognized, leading to exposure and being on the run, all in all ending in a _colossally_ bad day, but ... what were the odds?

 _Great._ The slayer grumbled, not even able to psych herself out of it. Using her friends as motivation, Buffy let out a breath and braced herself. Feeling like she was walking on needles, the blonde took a step forward and proceeded cautiously inside.

The place was packed. Loud rock music played in the background, overlapped by the clamor of the kitchen and the guests. A large menu sign was propped up close to the door, listing specials ten percent off. It was all cheap and obnoxious and far from the places she had frequented in Europe, but still Buffy found herself smiling a little. She was _definitely_ back in America again.

Scanning the bar, the slayer mentally assessed her next move. Looking between the booths or the front bar, Buffy chose the front bar. She was definitely not out to drink today, but it was the easiest link to start off a conversation for any kind of information. The blonde slayer seated herself on the stool, sliding in beside a man.

Buffy let a quiet breath, her mind working a mile a minute and trying to hide how on edge she was. She wasn't that good at fishing for information in ways that didn't include violence ... but she wasn't dealing with demons. She was dealing with people. People that if she was _too_ obvious with may very well call her good friend the government.

 _But no pressure, no pressure._ The blonde slayer chanted in her head, willing away her nervousness. God, this was humiliating. Whatever the military said about her, she hadn't done anything wrong. Why did she have to let them make her uncomfortable in her own skin in her own _country_?

"Hello, ma'am. What would you like to today?"

Startled, Buffy raised her head. Out of habit, she expected the person to be one of her slayers, but the young woman in front of her was normal. She was filling a glass with beer from a dispenser, her dark hair pulled in a bun and wearing a dark green apron. Nothing but clinical politeness and a hint of curiosity was in her expression.

"Nothing thanks." The blonde mumbled.

"Well, tell me if you change your mind." The waitress gave a small smile, then took the beer and rushed over to another customer a few seats down.

Buffy breathed a sign of relief, relaxing the tension in her muscles. Not a single sign of recognition for Buffy Summers, leader of a terrorist organization and Public Enemy Number One. This was already going better than she had expected.

"You sure you're old enough to be up here, little lady?"

The blonde slayer turned. It was the man seated beside her, a beer between his hands. He was older, lanky and tall and probably somewhere in his fifties. He had brown graying hair and a slight scruff on his face (equally as graying), dressed in a casual t-shirt and jeans. He was staring with near-amusement, his blue eyes crinkling.

Buffy smiled. "I'm old at heart." She quipped.

"Rough night?" He prompted, more as a fact than a question.

The blonde slayer gave him a look. "You would _not_ believe me if I told you." She said with feeling.

The old man chuckled. "Ah, figures. No one comes around to places like this and doesn't have something going on." He remarked, taking a sip of his beer. "Let me guess. Up too late partying, woke up hung over?" At the slayer's surprised expression, he smiled slightly. "You got the look."

Recovering from her surprise, she smiled. "Hung over. The _worst_. Blackouts, waking up somewhere else, headaches, the whole enchilada." Buffy went along with flippantly, nodding her head vigorously. Considering the past couple days, that actually wasn't too far from the truth.

He snorted. "In that case, you're lucky that's all you got. That storm could've carried away a tiny thing like you." The older man replied a bit more seriously, drinking his beer. "I'm Tom by the way. Tom Hendrick."

Buffy studied the man a second. "... Anne. Anne Hamill." She answered, keeping her voice cool. No way was she was giving away her real name. Even if this man seemed friendly and clearly did not know who she was, she was still in a country out to get her. She wasn't taking any chances.

"Nice to meet ya, Anne." Tom looked over his beer at her, curiosity in his eyes. "You're new around here, aren't you?"

"Y-yeah. I just got in a few days ago." The blonde slayer suppressed the tension that was trying to fight it's way to surface again. "Too bad I'm not one of those storm chasers, 'cause otherwise that welcoming party would've been a real turnaround." Buffy remarked as she stared at her hands, tone carefully casual.

"Yeah, that storm was somethin'. Worst one Kansas' seen in years. Came out of the damn blue. Cracked a few of my windows. I mean, damn." The older man said meaningfully, holding his beer. "Those weather forecasters ain't good for nothing." He muttered, shaking his head.

Buffy observed Tom, relieved he was making this information thing so easy. "Mother Nature. She's always got a few surprises up her sleeve." She agreed casually. "Beats terrorist trouble though, if you ask me. Says probably _every_ person from California." The slayer brought up nonchalantly, ignoring the prick of hurt her own statement caused.

Tom looked curious. "Why California?"

"Y'know, the big ka-boom. Rained down fire and brimstone, shortened them by one small-town city." The small slayer answered with a shrug. Buffy braced herself for outrage and disgust, but when she looked back at Tom there was only confusion on his face. She gave him a look. " _Sunnydale_." She emphasized meaningfully.

"You mean Sunnyvale?"

"No, Sunny _dale_." Buffy almost snapped. How was this guy not grasping this?

Tom frowned, then shook his head. "Never head of it. You must've got it mixed up, missy." He answered matter-of-factly, regarding her with a skeptical eye. "Only thing close to that I know of is Sunnyvale, and that city's fine. No terrorist trouble."

"You're kidding. You've _never_ heard of Sunnydale." The blonde slayer replied in disbelief. "Three years ago? The evacuation?" At the old man's still uncomprehending expression, her outrage levels skyrocketed. "It was on the _news_! The huge, town-size crater?!" Buffy said incredulously, throwing out her hands.

Tom looked baffled. "California doesn't have a crater. At least not from any town. Now I don't know where you heard this, but I know for damn sure it's not true." He told her, sounding certain.

"You don't—" The slayer broke herself off in a noise of exasperation. _Am I with stupid or something?_ She wondered. Buffy crossed her arms, weighing him with an unimpressed look. "... Now do you _permanently_ live under a rock or is just on weekends?" She asked sarcastically, looking at him innocently.

The old man looked amused. "Wow, Anne. That hangover sure did a number on _you_." He remarked, completely unaffected. He even chuckled a little.

Buffy was shocked. She knew what happened in Sunnydale. It was the very catalyst that gave them a bad terrorist rap and why the government started going after them in the first place. It had ruined her life and exiled the Slayer Organization and she sure as hell remembered all that. It was absolutely impossible that anyone, _especially_ in the U.S., didn't have this as common knowledge.

Not in the mood for smokescreens anymore, the blonde slayer voted to hell with subtlety. "What about the Slayer Organization? The ... terrorist group." Buffy pushed with only slight discomfort, her green gaze intent.

"Slayer Organization?" Tom was bewildered again. "Never heard of it. Not like there's been much terrorist trouble anyway."

If Buffy had been shocked before, now she was disturbed. He looked genuinely lost. _That's impossible ..._ Everyone _knows about us. There's no way this .. even if they stopped looking ..._ Shaken as she was, the blonde slayer could hardly think. A strong, intense feeling tugged at her gut. A _dark_ feeling. Something was so _wrong_. Why did it suddenly seem like her friends had been wiped off the face of the Earth?

"Listen, Anne ..." Tom began, his features twisting in meaning. "If you ask me, you should lay off on any more alcohol. Go home. Take coffee, pills, sleep a little. Whatever nurses that little hangover of yours." He advised.

Too unnerved to push the subject any further, Buffy nodded slowly. "You're right. It's j-just the hangover talking. Not fully functioning yet on the brain waves." She said, trying to be humorous and a bit embarrassed as she forced a smile. "Thanks, Tom."

The old man grunted, downing the rest of his beer. He pushed himself off the stool, standing to his feet. "Well, I gotta go. " Tom announced, shoving the empty glass away. "It was nice meeting you, Anne."

"You too." Buffy answered back quietly, still keeping the ghost of a smile on her face.

Tom was already walking away, giving one half-hearted wave as he headed towards the front doors. The blonde slayer was left alone, watching as the bar doors closed.

The blonde slayer swiveled her stool back to facing the bar, her arms on the table. _What ... was that?_ Buffy found herself asking, shell-shocked. Her biggest concern when she started this was the risk of getting caught. Now ... she honestly didn't _know_ anymore. She envisioned many scenarios before she set out, but this _definitely_ hadn't been one of them.

Why were none of her friends answering? Why were some of her numbers wrong? Why was no one recognizing her? Where was the Slayer Organization? Why did someone tell her Sunnydale didn't exist? Why, why, _why_ , lined up one after another. The questions tormented her. Buffy hardly cared anymore why she was sent here. She just wanted to know her friends were alright.

 _It was just one guy. Maybe he just doesn't watch the news. It doesn't have to mean_ _anything_. The blonde slayer rationalized.

The part that screeched Buffy to a halt though was her and her organization had been the hot topic of the country. Propaganda posters, acts of violence, wanted signs. Anything pinned international manhunt, it had been aimed at her. How could _anyone_ not know that or at least heard about it? _Especially_ the crater in California?

Buffy shook her head, trying to compartmentalize the worry to a different corner in her mind. She had only questioned _one_ person. His opinion didn't reflect everyone's. It was impossible for _no one_ to know about the Slayer Organization. Absolutely impossible.

 _Maybe it wasn't the military. Maybe it was something else._ She considered seriously. Buffy woke up all the way in Kansas, miles and miles away from Scotland, and now none of her friends knew how to answer a phone. Coincidence? Buffy thought not. _Looks like that Big Bad finally stepped out of the bushes._

" _Great_. _Just_ what I needed." Buffy muttered to herself.

Factoring everything, if that was indeed what this was, that led to one conclusion. A new evil figured cutting off the Slayer Organization from the leader (her) would make the rest vulnerable and attacked HQ when her back was turned. Likely ended in cutting off all phone lines and retreat or ... the other option. The option Buffy didn't want to think about.

Buffy sighed. She knew how evil worked. It'd be just like them to do something stupid like that, but she knew her slayers could handle themselves. There's no way they could all be gone. _No. They're not. They're must've ... retreated or something. I just need to find them._ The blonde slayer thought, certain. But what about _Dawn_? What if that happened and she got caught up on that?

The slayer's whole world seemed to lurch. Instant fear and anxiety pumped through her veins. _Oh, Dawnie ..._ She thought, pained. Whatever was going on back at the base, whatever their differences ... Dawn needed to be safe. She _had_ to be. Buffy had lost so much. She had lost their mother, Angel, and Spike. She could not lose her sister too.

The fear was like a virus, threatening to extinguish her under the weight of her friends and everything she cared about, but it was about as useless to her as wisdom teeth. All these were just guesses. She didn't know if she was right. Not without anything to go one. _Slow down, Buffy. You're letting your imagination run away with you._

Instinct suddenly screamed alerts to Buffy as a chill crept up the base of her spine. The blonde slayer turned around sharply, scanning the bar for the source of the bad vibe. It was early nighttime now and the bar had cleared out some, allowing her a better casing of the place. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until reaching a corner in the back.

There was a young girl, dressed in a black-and-white dress and with short, blonde hair. A man towered over her, one hand on the wall as the blonde smiled and looked up at him adoringly. Buffy focused on the man, her whole rigid. He was skinny, dressed in a long-sleeved green dress shirt and dark pants. He had a bald patch on his head and a brown mustache, smirking down at the girl. Completely normal. Except ...

His smirk wasn't just a seductive smirk. It seemed darker, in certain angles even a hint of cruel. Buffy stared at him so intensely she was certain she could burn a hole through him. There was something about that man ... a feeling. He just didn't seem human.

 _Vampire?_ Buffy wondered warily. It definitely fit the pattern of how and when they caught prey, but something about that didn't feel right either. She _knew_ vampires. This guy had the vibe down, but it wasn't quite the same? The blonde slayer couldn't explain it.

The man leaned down, whispering something in the girl's ear. Warning bells inside the slayer's head rang louder as the girl nodded, smiling as the man grabbed her hand and led her towards the back door. Buffy tensed. _That girl's in trouble._ With only brief hesitation, she rose from the stool and followed. Whatever that thing was ... she was killing it.

* * *

~~Dean~~

The liquid went satisfyingly down Dean's throat as he set the beer back on the table, letting out a sigh. His eyes followed the waitress as she milled between customers at the booth and the bar, tracing over the lines of her body when she wasn't looking. The Winchester couldn't stop a smirk. Hot waitresses? Always a perk.

Dean had been on a run for food to stash in the bunker, but he drove past a bar booming with business and got a little side-tracked. After only a little hesitation, the hunter had went inside. What the hell, right? Last he saw Sam was researching his ass off for any more demonic omens in Kansas and probably still was. One beer and he was out of here, getting food.

The brothers had spent all day continuing to look into the storm. People in the town still seemed shaken, but were dealing well enough more or less. Nothing too unusual popped up. At one point Dean considered the idea him and Sam were still on the edge by that mystery demon and just paranoid, but he knew better than that. With that new demon running around, there was no such thing as "paranoid".

Even just relaxing with a beer in a bar, Dean still was tense. He was getting restless. _If we're still drawing empty on Armus the demon in a couple more days ... then we gotta hit the road. Catch us another case._ He thought seriously. At that point, Dean didn't see how it could still be here, _if_ it was here, and not make a move. They had monsters to kill and people to save.

The Winchester drank down his now half-empty beer. Mid-drink, he glimpsed something out of the corner of his eye. He halted abruptly, choking on his own beer in his surprise. When he recovered and composed himself enough, he had set down the beer and looked in that direction more closely.

A woman was sitting alone on the far end of the bar, three people and a lot of other seats between them.

 _Hellooo._ Dean thought, feeling as if he hit jackpot. The woman was young, probably in her twenties. Her long, beach blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She was tiny and lightly-built with flawless sun-kissed skin and an angelic face. She was a definite looker, even from over here.

Dean stared in interest. A girl that smoking hot had been sitting at the bar this whole time and he hadn't noticed until now?

 _Now what's a hot chick like that doing all alone by herself?_ The Winchester wondered sympathetically, noticing how no seemed to be with the attractive blonde. It was a damn shame. She looked tense too and after a moment, Dean caught hints of an apprehensive frown on her face. Clearly she wasn't here for a happy hour.

Maybe he could fix that.

His curiosity piqued, Dean was ready to turn on the charm and start a conversation. Just as he got up and was about to head over, the blonde stiffened and whipped her head around. The hunter froze, certain it was directed at him, but the woman completely glossed over him. Her eyes darted all over the bar until it locked somewhere in the back.

Following her gaze, the Winchester saw a couple hooking up in a corner. The girl was hot and the guy was obviously a sleazebag, but other than that it was nothing special. He looked back at the blonde girl quizzically. Her expression was hard, fixed unblinkingly on the man. _Ex-boyfriend?_ He wondered.

God, he hoped not. The girl was too classy and good-looking for _that._

Then the guy made his move and headed with the girl to the back door. The blonde's whole body was rigid, a hint of urgency on her face and before Dean knew it, she was off the stool and following after. The hunter watched in surprise as the blonde woman walked right past him, not even giving him a single glance.

Dean could only stare after where the blonde chick disappeared. _I just got blown off._ He thought, appropriately taken aback. That guy was her ex-boyfriend, he was sure now which was a tragedy to hot women and every guy everywhere specifically him.

 _What a damn shame._ The Winchester shook his head, disappointed. Figures.

The hunter returned to his beer. He took more swigs, but his attention was wandering now. He couldn't help but keep looking at the back door. What was going on between those three was probably some annoying-ass love triangle drama, but something kept him wondering. That blonde had walked like a woman on a mission. He couldn't help it. It had his curiosity.

He sat there a moment, fidgeting slightly as he tried to finish his beer. _Ah, screw it._ Dean put down the beer, threw cash on the table and rose from the bar stool in one fluid motion. He headed over towards the back door, cautiously slowing down as he drew closer and spotted powder on the floor a few feet from it.

Dean crouched down, wiping the powder off with his finger. His mood instantly went south when he recognized it: sulfur, old-fashioned sulfur this time. The hunter shook his head, instant annoyance on his face. He had expected he'd run into one sometime soon, but he had been hoping it'd be the one they were _after_.

Dean raised his head, staring at the door. The trail of demon bread crumbs was leading to that blonde girl and that couple, meaning one or more of them were in trouble. Wiping the sulfur on his jeans, the hunter stood up and headed out the back door. Dean didn't know who's ass he was saving, but he knew he was saving somebody.

* * *

~~Buffy~~

Buffy stood outside, swiveling her head for the mystery man and his victim. She caught them just in time, leaving the parking lot and walking out into the street. Expression screwed up in determination, the blonde slayer followed. Needing to be careful not to draw attention from pedestrians or the monster she was tailing, she plastered herself behind buildings, glancing over to make sure they were still in sight.

Rooftops were easier. After traveling around Europe a couple years and living around a Scottish village, Buffy had gotten used to climbing buildings to stay unseen when trying to tail something. Now she was in Lebanon, a small-town city very much like Sunnydale had been. No more high rooftops or climbing.

The slayer tracked them stealthily for nearly a block when they stopped, making out with each other and pulling into a secluded alleyway. Ignoring the 'squick' factor by reminding herself this was an evil monster, Buffy closed the cautious distance and hurtled herself after them. The blonde swung around the corner, her eyes darting frantically for any sign of them.

 _Did I lose them?_ She wondered.

Muffled screams and sounds of struggle reached the blonde slayer's ears. Springing into action, Buffy bolted down the wide alleyway and twisted into another, following the noise. The man had the young blonde girl pinned to the brown brick wall, his hands on her painfully as he aggressively kissed her neck. "No! Stop it! You're hurting me!" She cried, struggling in vain.

"Ah, quit crying!" The man growled. "Whiny slut!" He said, punching the girl in the face. She cried out, but he covered her mouth to stifle it.

Buffy propelled herself at them like a torpedo. The guy barely registered it when the slayer attacked, her punch connecting with his face before hitting him with the back of her arm. "Welcome to the 21st century, Lee Majors. 'No' doesn't mean 'yes'." Buffy taunted, closing in on the man on the ground.

The battered woman behind her stared at the slayer a moment, eyes wide with shock and fear, then took off down the alley. The thing Buffy hit was getting to his feet. He shook his head, looking at her with warning in his eyes. "Oh, not smart, girl. Not smart." He said in mock sympathy, making a tsking sound.

A hit that hard and not a single bruise on him. _Yep. Not human._ The blonde judged, her slayer instincts right all along. Temptation to whip out her scythe and slice this creature roared in her, but she didn't have it on her right now. She hadn't wanted to draw suspicion carrying it around in her duffel bag when anyone could've recognized her.

It was back to the old-fashioned way.

The small slayer threw out an immediate jab, but the monster caught it and tried to twist her arm with inhuman strength. Buffy send a harsh uppercut with her free arm right to his chin. His head bobbed and the blonde slayer punched him on both sides of the face before kicking him in the stomach, grabbing him, and throwing him onto the dumpster.

"I learn on the job." Buffy deadpanned, savoring the look of surprise on the whatever-it-was.

The man wiped his mouth, a trickle of blood coming out. "Now there's something different about you ... something special." He mused, chuckling as he smirked. "That's quite a punch for such a little girl."

The blonde slayer walked slowly towards him, each step filled with a threat. "You ever heard the saying 'Don't mess with a slayer'?" Buffy remarked casually, poised to fight while mentally trying to figure out what this thing was. It looked human, but it wasn't a vampire.

"The hell is that?" The monster asked, uncomprehending.

 _Definitely_ not a vampire. "You're kidding. You haven't ..." The blonde reacted incredulously, breaking off and shaking her head. "Wow. Well, I'm just Miss Yesterday today, aren't I?" She stated, the light tone tainted by exasperation.

The monster charged. Buffy put up her defenses, blocking the punches and kicks, but started to have a harder time reacting. This thing was _trying_ now. He must've had thought she was just human. And it was strong, not stronger than her, but enough to be a challenge. When the thing finally landed a hit, it was hard in the face. She swiveled and with another blow, she half-fell.

Buffy glared up at the smirking face, set in a crouch position. _Now_ she was pissed. " _Okay_. You don't know what a slayer is? Fine. Let me _show_ you!" The blonde, taunt with anger, launched herself at the monster. She bowled him to the ground, straddling him. She punched it several times in the face, no mercy now.

"Bitch!" The monster growled in pure fury. In the one millisecond she reached for her pocket with one hand, he snatched her fist with a hard grip. He crushed it, making the slayer emit a noise of pain, and then threw her forcefully off him. Buffy took the fall in an uneven roll. Soreness radiated from her right hand, but she ignored it. Buffy looked up at him challengingly, ready for more.

Pure shock filled her when she got a look at his face. His eyes, previously a shade of green, were completely black, even the whites. Anger smoldered in them. "What the hell are you?"

"My _question_ , thanks." Buffy shot back in a glower, getting to her feet.

"You know, it's too bad. That one girl ... I was just looking for fun." Black Eyes started, giving a cruel smirk. Instantly the smirk was wiped off. "But _you_ pissed me off. You aren't getting off that easy." He added in meaningful threat, pointing at her. Something shiny gleamed and he pulled out a knife.

Buffy tensed slightly, but remained calm. "Oh, lookie there, a monster with a knife." She responded sarcastically, wholly unimpressed. She shook her head. "There just isn't standards anymore."

"Cocky little—" The monster broke off angrily, charging and lashing out with his knife. The blonde slayer dodged, fending him off with a roundhouse kick. Black Eyes grunted, off-balance and stumbling. As he held his stomach, Buffy swiftly pulled out a stake.

Okay, she knew how this looked. This thing, whatever it was, wasn't a vampire. She had no idea _what_ it was, which was a first for her in a long time. A stake probably wouldn't work and she had no idea what would honestly, but she was improvising. Some of her best fights had been won improvising.

The monster's eyes widened slightly at the stake and burst out laughing. The slayer scowled. Black Eyes crept closer to her, rotating his knife. "... Now _what_ exactly do you expect to do with a thing like that?" He inquired in amusement, stopping when he was right in her face.

His knife sailed towards her again. Buffy dodged both strokes swiftly, then grabbed his arm. "Something like this." She said casually. She twisted his arm and it snapped, letting his knife fall to the floor. In the monster's moment of pain, Buffy gripped her stake with both hands and plunged it deep into his shoulder.

Black Eyes groaned, slightly sinking. The blonde slayer's eyes darted around quickly, looking for a better weapon. Thinking fast, Buffy broke a pipe off from a building and stabbed him from behind in the angle she knew the heart typically was. It went straight through him, sticking out the other side. He fell on his side.

The blonde slayer let out a breath of relief, certain it was over. Then her blood went cold.

Buffy watched in wide-eyed dread as the monster got up, gripping the pipe and pulling it out. "Ah, son of bitch!" He exclaimed in angry pain as he pulled it out fully, breathing hard. He turned around. Catching the slayer's stunned look, he smirked. "You walked into the wrong fight, little girl. It takes a lot more than that to kill me." He drawled, tossing the blood-drenched pipe across the alley.

 _I ... don't know how to kill it._ Buffy realized in utter disbelief. She could beat it up and stab it with any object all day, but all she'd be doing is tiring herself out and eventually just getting killed. _It's like it's ... immune or something._ She thought, unsettled. It was like with vampires, except stakes killed them. What did she do now? Run away?

As the monster pulled out the stake too and started to advance, another person appeared in the alley. He was a tall black man, dressed in a black suit. Buffy was about to scream a warning to stay away, but then she saw his eyes were black. Apprehension and annoyance immediately prickled under her skin. _Great. Reinforcements._

The newcomer, however, didn't focus on her at all. He was fixed on the other monster, disdain in his features. "You're an idiot, Dawson. You know the King has strict orders now on making our activities too public. You shouldn't have come here." He reprimanded in icy disapproval.

 _King?_ Buffy thought, frowning.

Dawson (apparently) threw out his hand, looking at him challengingly. "Come on! I just came for a little fun. _Barbie_ here came along and already ruined my buzz." He said defensively, gesturing to the blonde slayer in visible disgust. He sobered. "There's something different about this one. I don't know what she is ... but she's strong."

The other monster looked at her for the first time, narrowing his eyes as they flicked over her form. "This one?" Detectable skepticism in his voice.

Dawson nodded. "Yeah. She don't look like much, but believe me ... she's not normal." A sadistic smirk crossed his face. "Crowley'd probably like to meet her." He mentioned, dark promise in his eyes.

" _Annd_ I'm gonna stop you there." Buffy spoke at last, throwing up her hand as she moved herself out in the open, away from the walls. "No more trading places in the hot seat. Now I'm sure your friend is _great_. I'm flattered, really, but let's do it another time." The blonde slayer went on glibly, making a move to leave.

She had to get out here. She couldn't stay and fight both of these black-eyed things. At least not without knowing what killed them. It was fight or flight and as ashamed as she was, Buffy wouldn't let her slayer pride make her stupid. She needed to know if her friends were safe. After that, she didn't care what happened to her.

Black Eyes #2 stepped in front of her. "Where do you think _you're_ going?" He said in a cold voice, towering over her.

Dawson crept closer, smiling at her darkly. "Now as much as I'd like to kill you ... you're our gift to Crowley. Whatever makes the boss happy, y'know?"

Buffy stared them down, unafraid. "Get out of my way."

The monsters didn't budge. Agitated beyond belief, the blonde slayer threw a hard right hook at Black Eyes #2. "Wasn't a question!" Buffy retorted, dodging a punch from Dawson, grabbing his arm, and throwing him to the ground just in time to block the other monster's attack. She glared up at him, throwing a headbutt and knocking him aside.

Buffy stood, breathing heavily. _I can't keep this up._ She thought, dismayed. She hadn't slept in two days. Already she felt tiredness dulling some of her reaction time. These creatures were immune to _everything_. They had reserves of stamina and immunity even she didn't have. She had to leave _now_.

As the monsters were still regrouping and getting to their feet, Buffy was literally a second from bolting. All of a sudden, a deep, harsh-sounding voice pierced the air. And it wasn't coming from the monsters.

"Hey!"

Pure tiredness and frustration funneled through the blonde slayer before she even looked and she almost closed her eyes. _Now what?_

Another man was silhouetted against the opening of the alley, something resembling a knife in his hand. As soon as Buffy looked at him, the guy was running up. The slayer tensed, rooted to the spot in not knowing whether this new guy was a human or another one of those things.

Dawson was still on the ground, scowling up ahead. " _Winchester_." Buffy heard him say, the one word so simple but packed with enough recognition and disgust to say a lot.

The guy stopped in front of them. He looked over all three of them warily, resting a second longer on her. The atmosphere seemed to drop. Both monsters were on their feet instantly, eyes turning black. The increased tension in the air startled Buffy. Two things were made clear. First, they knew this guy. Second, whoever he was ... he _scared_ them.

The man's face was hard. "I miss something?" He deadpanned.

Immediately Dawson threw himself at the newcomer. The slayer stared in surprise as the two started to fight, throwing out punches and blocks. As Black Eyes #2 tried to join his friend, Buffy gripped his shoulders and threw him hard the other direction. She glanced back at the man, struggling now against the monster's grip on his arm as it slowly twisted his knife away.

Buffy was about to help, not willing to let this guy fight alone. However, the stranger broke free with a hard punch across the face and another in the gut, adjusting his grip on his knife as he blocked the monster's arm and lunged his weapon right towards his stomach. Realization coiled inside Buffy.

" _Don't!_ Knives don't work!" She shouted.

Her warning must've startled him because his knife missed, granting the monster an opening to grab him by the throat. Dawson lifted him up and tossed him. The stranger collided into the wall on the left, hitting a pole. He groaned, appearing to be muttering curses when Buffy charged Dawson.

Buffy fought persistently against the monster, nailing a couple solid punches and kicks, but her reserves were burnt out. Each one she landed, her enemy seemed to land more. After a good couple punches to his face, her reaction time wasn't as fast anymore and the creature landed a harsh kick in the leg. Pain vibrated through her and she fell to the floor.

The creature leaned over her, smirking at her. "Sorry, Princess. It's been fun ... but there's no use fighting." Dawson mocked in false sympathy.

The stranger from before came up from behind Dawson, his knife barred. The monster turned around just in time to catch his arm, glaring into his eyes. Taking the opportunity, Buffy rushed to her feet and punched Dawson hard in the side of the throat. He stumbled to the side, losing his grip on the other guy's arm when the slayer kicked him, just in time for the stranger to thrust his knife in his chest.

Buffy's eyes widened as orange light flickered from inside the monster. Dawson groaned and then he slumped, the light flickering out. The guy pulled the knife out, both of them stepping back as the body fell to the floor. Surprised green locked on wary green briefly. Buffy looked back down at the monster's body. _Wait. There were two._

"Where's the other one?" She asked, looking around.

The stranger's already tense posture seemed to tense further. He looked around himself carefully, but the monster wasn't even in sight. "Son of a ..." He began, breaking off in visible annoyance before shaking his head. "He got away." He said simply.

"What _were_ those things?" Buffy questioned in bewilderment. She could tell by his attitude he was familiar with the supernatural. A _lot_ familiar, if the reactions to him by those monsters were anything to go by.

The man paused, studying her with that same cautious look in his eyes. " ... Those were demons." He said slowly. He was regarding her carefully, as if he was gauging her reaction.

The blonde slayer frowned. Okay. She _knew_ demons and none of the ones she knew had black eyes, and were that annoyingly hard to kill (By the way, what was up with that knife?). _But I guess they're just a different kind ... Looks like I haven't seen everything after all._ She realized.

"Oh." Buffy uttered, still frowning a bit.

The stranger looked surprised, as if he had expected more of a reaction. His gears seemed to shift after a moment and he scrutnized her more tensely than before, a somewhat hard look in his eyes. "What about the girl? The one who left with Hillybillie Hick here." He gestured to the demon on the ground.

Buffy watched him, her own gears of thought turning. The blonde slayer narrowed her eyes. "You followed me." Though she hid it, that surprised her. She didn't get followed easily. This guy must've known what he was doing.

"Answer the question." The stranger said curtly, his grip tightening on his knife.

 _You're all charm, aren't you?_ Buffy thought sardonically. She could tell by the look in his eyes he didn't trust her. The blonde slayer didn't know why. It wasn't like she had anything to hide.

The slayer wasn't intimidated. "She's safe." The slayer told him evenly. She glanced back down at the demon, frowning. "That guy ... I just got a feeling. He wasn't human. I had to be sure." Buffy answered truthfully.

The man scoffed. "Like a 'spider sense'?"

"Something like that." The small slayer responded distractedly. Noticing the still-obvious skepticism in his eyes, Buffy hardened. "The demon tried to kill her and I saved her. I tailed, I came, I got her out. _End_ of story." She said in finality.

The stranger studied her thoughtfully. For the first time since he arrived, Buffy really looked at him. He was tall with short, blondish-brown hair and sharp green eyes. He was muscular, not overtly but lean and sturdy. He was actually more attractive than his clothes suggested, layered in a black shirt under a blue one with a green canvas jacket blanketed over his impressively broad shoulders. Throw in the jeans and the boots and he looked very ... farm boy.

 _Right. You're in Kansas, Buffy, not California._

"You're a hunter." The stranger's rigid posture relaxed just slightly.

 _He's a demon hunter!_ Buffy realized. Everything added up. His lack of fear towards the demons, how they knew him, the distinctive caution he carried even now. It was all the signs of someone who'd seen a one too many things go bump in night. But he was human. She could tell that by his bruises. He was like Riley and Robin.

On better ground with this situation now, the slayer thought carefully how to answer. " ... You could say that." The blonde replied cautiously, her eyes not leaving his face. "Mostly? I'm just someone that needs help."

She wasn't a demon hunter, but she didn't know this guy enough to reveal she was a slayer. Not _everyone_ took her slayerness in stride. Buffy just couldn't risk a fight or flight response from this man. He was like her—sort of—and she needed people like her right now to help her get out of this freaky situation and find her friends. Faith was in a different state. So the slayer was just going to cross her fingers and hope this pretty boy demon hunter had any compassion under the daily killing of things to help a person in distress the way Robin and Riley did.

The man narrowed his eyes, still wary but with a touch of morbid curiosity this time. He glanced down at the body. "Yeah, well. Put the social worker pitch on the back-burner. We gotta get out of here." The demon hunter said seriously as he put his knife back inside his jacket, raising his eyes at her pointedly.

Buffy understood. She let the demon hunter take the lead as they crossed into one of the narrow passages cutting between the buildings, taking them out a different side to travel discreetly into the block and out into the street.

Buffy studied the man's back intensely, buzzing with curiosity. He was older than her, at least in his thirties, and experienced. He knew how to track and stay hidden. With the way he fought that demon, he was also obviously trained. One thing got her the most. He was human and yet the minute he showed, he scared those demons more than _she_ did.

 _That's gotta be a first._ The slayer thought, surprised. In the demon world, The Slayer was the monster boogeyman. Nothing was scarier than her to them. What could be so special about a guy with no powers competing against a slayer?

Buffy narrowed her eyes slightly. _Who is this guy?_

The entire trip to the bar had been in silence. Tension radiated from the mysterious demon hunter's body and that just made _her_ tense. By the time they re-entered the parking lot, Buffy had been relieved. She had expected they'd be going inside, but instead the man headed straight for a car. It was a classic black muscle car, not one she was familiar with but appealing.

Was it bad that Buffy's first thought when she looked at it was ' _How could someone dressed this cheap afford this car'?_

"Nice car." The small blonde said when they reached it. Her own voice sounded lame, but whatever was bothering this guy she was trying to be friendly.

"Don't suck up." The man grumbled, turning around and leaning against the car. Buffy frowned slightly at the comment. The demon hunter crossed his arms, staring at her with that same hard look she was beginning to think was his trademark. "Who are you?"

The blonde slayer faltered. Her old "in America, don't give your real name" fears came rushing to the surface, but maybe this time it wasn't the right choice. She needed help and if she was going to get any from this obviously very guarded man, she had to make sure he trusted her.

"Buffy." She answered, meeting his gaze steadily.

"No, really." The demon hunter said, not even blinking. At Buffy's raised brow and confirming look, the guy back-pedaled. Disbelief flitted across his face, but he immediately hardened himself again." ... You said you needed help. Why?" He questioned warily.

"I can't find my friends. No one's answering their calls and it's been two days." Buffy went straight to the point.

The stranger's expression intensified. "You think a monster's behind it?"

"I think it's _something_." Buffy answered meaningfully. She didn't want to bring up the government option or the Slayer Organization yet. This guy clearly didn't recognize her either and she wanted to keep it that way.

"And you want me to just _pull out_ the SAR wagon."

The skepticism in his voice pissed her off. "Well, I'm so sorry that the _safety of my friends_ is such a strain on you!" The blonde snapped, glaring at the demon hunter. The slayer took in a deep breath. "Look, I've just had a really, _really_ weird past couple days ... and you seem like you know weird. I need help."

The man stared at her steadily, considering. Annoyance rose on his face and the man rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he pulled out his cell phone. "Lemme call my partner. Whatever Hollywood sob story you got left outta that, you feed it to both of us." The demon hunter said begrudgingly, putting his phone to his ear.

The blonde took another breath. "Thank you." She stated stiffly, shaking her head slightly in exasperation as she gave him a look.

The stranger glanced at her, his expression hard to place. Someone picked up on the other line and he refocused. "Sam? Hey, I ..." A flicker of self-consciousness crossed his face. "No, I didn't ... I didn't get food. Look! I found a couple demons." Talk on the line. He smirked slightly. "Nope, _old school_ this time. Smoked one of 'em, the other got away, then I ran into this hunter chick named Buffy ..." He turned to her immediately with a scowl, still holding his phone. " _Buffy_? Really?" He said incredulously.

Buffy watched with crossed arms, shrugging and quirking her lips. The demon hunter focused back on his phone. " _What?_ Yeah. Anyway, this girl's saying she needs our help." Pause. The stranger listened to a voice at the end of the line. "Got it. We're at _Midwest Goods_ bar. Meet us there." He hanged up and looked back at her.

"Now was that so hard?" The blonde slayer mocked, looking over at him pointedly.

The demon hunter crossed his arms again, not amused. "He's coming." He told her gruffly.

The blonde slayer almost sighed. _I'm starting to seriously reconsider my choice of help._ Buffy thought, exasperated. This demon hunter was clearly not a people person or probably even that friendly. Don't think she didn't miss the veiled distrust in his eyes which at this point made even less sense than before.

 _Could be worse though. It's not like he's telling me to take a hike or anything._ She reflected. Buffy couldn't say she had a particularly good first impression of this guy, but _something_ was keeping him here. He could've walked away, but he didn't. Maybe that was his way of giving her the benefit of the doubt. She figured, given her situation, maybe she could cut him a little slack.

"What's your name?" Buffy asked. "If we're going to be using the buddy system, I should probably know your name."

The demon hunter paused, watching her unreadably. " ... Dean." He finally said, the gruff edge absent.

It was a start.

* * *

~~Dean~~

Uncomfortable silence settled between the two as they waited for Sam to arrive. Dean kept one eye trained on the mysterious blonde hunter, his crossed arms and tense posture unchanging. Tons of questions plagued the Winchester's mind, begging to be let out. Maybe he thought if he stared at her hard enough, all of them would be answered.

The short blonde looked bored, her own arms crossed. She was dressed in a white sleeveless v-tank top emblazoned with a large, thin cross design extending all the way down the shirt. It was complemented with black skinny jeans and taupe-colored combat boots halfway to her knee. Her hair was tied up in a messy pony tail and her clothes were wrinkled and stiff, like she hadn't ironed them in days. Underneath the boredom, her eyes were two green pools of exhaustion.

Frankly, she looked a little worse for wear ... but still a _lot_ better than she should've. Like smoking hot. A total bombshell. Not that that was point he was trying to make right now or that he was even thinking about that at all. Nope, not today.

 _A hunter in bite-size taking on two demons by herself and coming out with just a few scratches?_ _Come on. You can't tell me that just happens._ Dean thought skeptically, scowling a little. Her skin looked flawless, not a bruise in sight. Him, on the other hand ... his back was all kinds of screwed from hitting that pole and in general his whole body hurt. But _this_ girl?

"You gonna keep giving me the evil eye?" Buffy's flat voice broke through his thoughts.

Dean just narrowed his eyes. "You know ... " The Winchester began cautiously. "You just took on two demons. You don't walk away from a fight like that without getting left a little banged up." Dean wasn't shooting for concerned or accusing. He was just wheedling answers.

Buffy didn't react. She shrugged. "I mend fast." She looked over at him pointedly. "You should be more worried about you."

Dean nearly chuckled. This woman sure had gall. _Believe me, sweetheart. Worry's the_ farthest _thing from my mind._ The Winchester thought meaningfully. "I'm used to being batted around. No skin off my nose." The hunter replied smoothly, smirking just the slightest.

Her attitude was cagey to say the least. Dean wasn't buying anything she was selling yet. It just didn't make sense how she fought two demons and looked that unharmed. The hunter supposed he could've chalked it up to his male pride not wanting to admit the fact a girl was a better fighter than him ... but that was just it. She was _too_ good. No regular woman had the strength and speed he saw. It was in the heat of battle, but he knew what he thought he saw.

 _And what kind of hunter thinks she can kill demons without the knife?_ The Winchester thought, the question nagging him. She had the _attitude_ of a hunter and certainly the fighting skill, but no self-respecting hunter didn't know you couldn't kill demons normally and would've at least known those were demons. _It's like jumping straight into the action without ever reading the book._

No. A lot of things about this Buffy woman wasn't adding up. This woman might not be human. He needed Sam for back-up if she wasn't ... and a part of him might still be soft. He supposed it couldn't be _that_ bad if he let her talk as long as he kept his guard up.

Overlooking the parking lot, Dean spotted a familiar tall shape stepping out of the backdoor of the bar. Relief washed over him. "Oh, thank god." He said out loud, not bothering to be polite or even glancing at Buffy. The older hunter waved his hand to get his brother's attention and soon enough he was heading over.

Sam stopped in front of him. Dean exaggeratedly gestured to Buffy. "Sam ... I found _Gretel_." He said dryly, a sarcastic smile plastered on his face.

Buffy glared at him, then turned to his brother. "Buffy, actually." She introduced herself, shaking hands with Sam and having a much friendlier look in her eyes.

His younger brother smiled politely. "I'm Sam, Dean's brother."

"And you're a demon hunter too?" Buffy checked slowly, sounding half-questioning as she looked him over curiously.

Sam laughed slightly. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. Looks we run in the same circles."

" _Good_." The small blonde said in deep relief, closing her eyes a second. At his brother's questioning look, embarrassment crossed her face. "I-I mean, the more, the merrier. Resumes knee-deep in monsters, weirdness, and the unholy are kind of my go-to right now." She explained awkwardly.

Amusement filled his brother's face. "Well ... you _definitely_ came to the right place." He admitted.

Buffy smiled gratefully. "I'm getting that."

"We done with the intro?" Dean grumbled.

Buffy glanced at him, visibly annoyed. Sam just gave him his typical resigned look. Nearly sighing, his younger brother turned back to the blonde hunter. "Dean told me you needed our help. What happened? Are you on a hunt?"

The small blonde paused, a slight frown on her face. Dean watched this carefully. " ... You could say that." She replied uncertainly. "It's my friends. I can't find them anywhere and all their phones are disconnected. It's been two days and still mootville." Buffy told Sam, her brow scrunching in worry.

Sam was listening attentively. "You got a lead on what might be behind it?"

" _Okay_." Unable to stay silent anymore, Dean moved from the car and spread out his hands. "Before you dial up Winchester hotline ... have you, and I'm just thinking out loud here ... say tried _visiting_ them?" The older Winchester brought up, looking at her pointedly.

To the hunter's surprise, the blonde's expression darkened. She sighed and hung her head. " ... It's not that easy."

Dean did not get it. "Drive a couple miles, walk a couple yards." He shrugged. "I mean, sure there's a little _movement_ involved, but uh .."

Buffy's look was hard. "We live in _Scotland_." She remarked, bitingly matter-of-fact.

The older Winchester's mood changed abruptly. He exchanged a glance with Sam, who looked just as surprised. "... Well, you're a _long_ way from home." Dean told her with just a faint touch of sympathy, shaking his head.

"Tell me about it." The blonde hunter muttered, the bitterness obvious.

"Did you have any idea what could've gotten to them before you came here?" Sam asked in slow caution.

"That's the thing. I never _came_ anywhere." Buffy began, serious. "Two days ago, I was in Scotland. I was chasing after this vampire and suddenly ... poof! Bye bye Scotties, hello Sunflower State." The blonde hunter explained. She shook her head. "I don't know what happened. I just know someone put me here and for some reason since then, it's like my friends dropped off the face of the Earth."

Dean was silent, trying to decipher her. She certainly looked sincere. There seemed to be genuine concern in her eyes. _'Course, it could just be the 'Poor Me' act, trying to make us feel bad for her so we'd trust her. Seen it all before._

Sam, on the other hand, seemed to be giving this a whole different kind of thought. "Did you make any enemies, like maybe a witch?" The younger hunter prompted, green eyes focused on her. "They could've brought you here."

"Either that or a demon." Buffy went on wearily. "Not that I'm that sure. With how long I've been doing this ... the anti-Buffy fanclub list doesn't exactly have an off-ramp." She admitted doubtfully, acutely uncomfortable.

"If one of your evil pals got a free shot at you, then why wouldn't they just kill you? Why bring you to us?" Dean questioned skeptically.

"Why do bad guys do anything?" The female hunter responded, giving him a flat look.

Dean considered that point, nodding slightly. No denying that on his part.

"So you really have _no_ idea who sent you here?" Sam pressed.

The blonde shook her head. "Complete blank space. I haven't had that kind of trouble in a ... while." She told him awkwardly, a grimace building. She lowered her eyes somberly. "All I know is someone must've wanted me here. Don't ask me why. I just know it can't be good."

 _Got that right._ Dean agreed. His suspicions were rising again. Was it just a coincidence that after that demon massacre back in Michigan and a demonic omen storm, _she_ pops up, feeding them this sob story? You could so easily fall for it too. This woman's unassuming personality along with her good looks could fool anyone.

Well, y'know what? Screw that. Dean liked the ladies. His woman was definitely something to look more than twice at, but he wasn't an idiot either. Something was off with this girl and he'd be damned if he let a pretty face cloud his common sense and his honed hunter instincts. It was beneath him.

"And why exactly are we supposed to trust you?" Dean said outright, an edge to his voice.

His brother shot him a look. _"Dean!"_

Buffy's green gaze smoldered. " ... I _helped_ you fight those demons. I could've left you behind and I didn't." The blonde answered tightly.

Dean shrugged. "Doesn't mean anything." And it didn't. Enemies weren't afraid to help you, as long as they got something out of it. Saving your life even meant less than jack and he knew that from experience. Hell, wasn't that _Crowley's_ trademark, their biggest pain in the ass at the moment?

He could sense the icy disapproval radiating off Sam without even looking, but Dean ignored him. Buffy was staring at Dean in outrage. " ... Okay, Einstein. If I'm such a two-faced liar, then how come my story is as ridiculous as sounds? Do you honestly think I'd _make up_ this freak show?" She challenged.

Dean refused to be swayed.

Finally the blonde hunter sighed. "Look ... I realize everything I'm saying is a one-ticket to Crazy Town. I _don't_ want to be here, trust me on that. And I'm sure you guys have your own monsterfests to worry about." She acknowledged, raising her eyes. "But I _need_ to find my friends. So give me something. Anything. Believe me, I _would_ not be standing here asking for help if I didn't need it." Buffy stated meaningfully. "Help me know they're safe. Please."

Her green eyes were wide, desperate and pleading. Conflict stirred in Dean. She couldn't be faking _that_. Still, he just couldn't explain her strange strength and resilience against those demons. What if she wasn't human? What if she was that new kind of demon they were after? He didn't want to ignore an innocent girl, but there was too many things to consider.

"We'll help you. Where we live ... you can use our resources to try and find them." Sam reassured. He glanced at his older brother more sharply. "We're helping her. Right, Dean?" He prompted, warning in his voice. Like he was ordering him, not telling.

Torn between agreeing with Sam and his own paranoia about a connection between her and this new demon, frustration rose in his chest and he snorted. He wasn't sure himself what he was going to say until he said it. " _Whatever_. If it means keeping an eye on you. " He muttered, rolling his eyes.

Buffy did not look impressed in any way whatsoever. "My hero."

Dean wasn't fazed. "Just get in the car. We ain't got all night."

The blonde stared at him hard like she was debating whether or not to say something. She ended up just rolling her eyes and letting out an annoyed sigh. She took a few steps to the car, then stopped to look back at Sam. "Thanks for this. Really." She said earnestly.

His brother smiled and nodded. Buffy looked over at Dean with a glare, then worked her way into the backseat of the Impala.

Not giving a single damn, Dean headed for the driver's seat. Sam grabbed his shoulder, pulling him a slight ways from the car. His younger brother did not look happy. "Dean. What was that?" He said in outrage, letting go of him and throwing out his arm.

 _Oh here we go._ The hunter thought irritably, already knowing what going through Sam's mind. "Us rescuing the damsel. What you wanted, right?" He said impatiently.

"Yeah, except since when is that just _my_ thing?" The brown-haired hunter retorted, clearly not buying it. "She's a hunter, Dean. Just like us. She came to us, for _help_ , and you're acting like a dick." Sam accused, his green eyes hard.

"And what makes you think she's anything that she says she is?" Dean challenged.

"What makes you think she's _not_?" His younger brother shot back, bewildered.

" 'Cause something's off about her!" The older Winchester snapped, raising his voice. Sam narrowed his eyes. "She gets in a smackdown with two demons and comes out shiny and silky smooth. _Two_ , Sam! And I didn't get there first."

His brother shrugged. "So she's a good hunter."

Dean made a incredulous sound in the back of his throat. "Oh, she's _great_. Fan-friggin-tastic. That's exactly why it's too good to be true." The older hunter argued. "She threw around those demons like damn _ragdolls_ , Sam. Skinny mini packing a punch like that? Yeah, right. She's probably not even human."

" ... You think she has something to do with that demon in Michigan." Sam realized matter-of-factly.

 _Am I supposed to think anything else?_ He thought in disbelief. "Well, we don't know jack about that thing, we don't know jack about her. Perfect match." Dean summed up in brutal simplicity.

His younger brother shook his head. "You're throwing her under the bus real fast here, Dean." He expressed doubtfully.

"Come on, man! Line it up!" Dean said impatiently, throwing out his arms. "We discover Mystery Man a week ago, trail goes cold. Then we get hit with a demonic omen and some super strong blonde chick shows up from god knows where, trying to get close to us. That's not a coincidence?" The older Winchester argued.

"Dean ... she said she _helped_ you." Sam reminded him.

Dean snapped his fingers. " _Exactly!_ She helped me. She tried to save my bacon. That's like practically Chapter 2 in _Evil for Dummies_. They swoop in, save your ass, feed you a sob story, make you trust them, then ..." Dean clucked his tongue, snapping his fingers again for emphasis. "You're out. They screw you over."

"Yeah, or you're just still in _Purgatory_." His younger brother said drily, giving him a pointed look.

The older hunter faltered, but recovered quick. "I know what I'm talking about, Sam!" He insisted, throwing out his arms. "A mysterious, super-powered hot chick shows up, gets you out of tight spots, and next thing you know you're sleeping with the enemy. Sound familiar?" Dean brought up meaningfully. Sam tensed. "Well, let me tell you something. That is _not_ gonna be me." He crossed his arms. "Nope. Not this Winchester. Mnh-mhm." He denied vehemently, shaking his head repeatedly.

Sam gave him a look. "Thanks." He said flatly. Dean shrugged. It was it was. His brother shook his head. "I don't know, Dean. She looks pretty genuine."

"We can't trust her." Dean insisted seriously.

"Then why is she in your car, Dean? Hell, why didn't you just turn her away?" His younger brother queried incredulously.

The older Winchester said nothing. Reluctance squirmed within him. He knew exactly why. Despite all his doubts and skepticism, he couldn't turn away someone like that in need without having more proof. It was probably a stupid choice, granted. The smart one would've been just to turn her away. But Dean had never exactly been that smart.

Sam read his silence loud and clear. " ... That's what I thought."

 _Awesome._ The older Winchester thought as he rolled his eyes, thoroughly done with this situation and this conversation. "Look, we're giving her a shot, okay?! We just aren't gonna be stupid about it." He told him a little indignantly, resting his gaze on him sternly. That was his last say on the matter.

His little brother nodded, finally looking like he had no more complaints. "Fair enough."

Dean kept his hard gaze pinned on his brother for a moment, then turned and headed to Impala. The Winchesters got in their respective seats. Dean started the car, letting out a bracing breath. "Okay ... _Buffy._ You got any ideas on where you want to start looking for your pals?" He asked reluctantly.

No answer.

Annoyance pierced the hunter, but he kept his cool. "Fine. Give the silent treatment."

"Dean ..."

Dean glanced at Sam, who was looking behind at the backseat. He followed his brother's gaze, turning himself around. He faltered at the sight instantly. Buffy was sitting on Sam's side of the car, leaning into the Impala's window with her eyes closed. Her breathing was deep, but even. She was fast asleep.

The older hunter made a incredulous noise. His talk with Sam had been maybe five minutes and she was already out like a light. _Guess we bore her._ He thought dryly. No matter the fight she had, her disheveled appearance and the lines under her eyes her make-up didn't completely cover made it clear she hadn't slept in a while. She looked like she fought ten rounds and lost every one.

He glanced back at Sam. His brother was watching Buffy with an amused, sympathetic smile on his face. The older Winchester shook his head, trying to be annoyed as he looked back at the sleeping blonde hunter. Dean found himself thinking it should be a sin to be such a wild card and still look that innocent.

* * *

 **A/N:** **There's Chapter 2, guys! You all knew it wouldn't be long until Buffy, Dean, and Sam crossed paths. Poor Buffy. I really do make her go through a lot (and apparently so does Joss ... I guess I just follow his example lol). She is _in_ the Supernaturalverse and she doesn't even know it yet. Like I said, Buffy's story is very complicated and detailed. It'll have a lot of different stages, all leading towards a very specific part at the end of this fic I want her to be at. It all has a purpose, in the end. :) **

**Buffy and Dean meeting while fighting monsters ... we all know they would never meet any other way lol. Sam/Buffy is also kinda cute, I admit. If it was written during a different time, I could probably see that happening too xD. This story is eventual Buffy/Dean, but it's _eventual_ for a reason. Obviously, based on this chapter they don't hit it off that well. The Buffy/Dean couple is or at least how I think it would've been is a very turbulent one. It's practically impossible for it _not_ to be, given the strength of their personalities. Maybe that's why I ship it. xD**

 **Next chapter some questions will be answered and we'll see more of the Buffy/Sam/Dean trio ... thanks for reading! :)**

 _ **Thanks for the 5 favorites, 10 follows, and 5 reviews!**_

 **NEXT CHAPTER:** The Winchesters and Buffy fall into an uneasy alliance. Buffy searches for answers about her friends and why she was sent here. However, when answers fall into their lap, it becomes clear neither of them had been expecting this ...


	3. Chapter 3: Out of This World

**A/N:** Hey, readers! Third chapter's up. Finally some of the questions will be answered. I really enjoy writing the dynamics of Buffy, Sam, and Dean. I love all three of them so much and if they ever met, they really would be quite a trio. And yes, Castiel too will definitely have more of a presence. He's actually one of the reasons why I didn't write this story during the first three SPN seasons. He's part of the family and Buffy needed to meet him. :3

This chapter's a lot shorter. I'm not quite sure how that happened xD, but enjoy! :)

 **Disclaimer: All rights reserved to Joss Whedon and Eric Kripke. **

_**Open to Constructive Criticism/OCC warnings!**_

* * *

 _Out of This World_

~~Buffy~~

"Rise and shine!"

Something thudded above her, sudden and jarring in the land of unconsciousness. Buffy jerked awake instinctively, eyes flying open as nothing registered. Sunlight blinded her. The slayer closed them again with a wince and covered her eyes, the daylight currently too much for her sensitive eyesight. The thudding sounded again, this time more impatiently.

Buffy pried them open painfully. On the outside of the window, a man was staring down at her with an irritated expression. For a moment her fuzzy mind knew nothing except her own name, then she remembered the man was Dean, that tall guy standing in the back was his brother, and she had fallen asleep in the backseat of his car.

Dean pulled away from the window, his arm sliding off the top of the car as he moved back to stand beside Sam. The blonde slayer shook herself, pushing her deadweight body against the door and opening it. She stepped out a little shakily, fogginess and complete and total exhaustion swamping over her. Buffy shook her head to wake up.

"Morning, _Sleeping Beauty_." Dean deadpanned. Her rude awakener. _Literally_.

"When's the last time you _slept_?" Sam asked, frowning in near-concern.

Frustration at herself swelled in Buffy. She never intended to fall asleep like that, not to mention the fact she was pretty sure her cat nap had been just a wink, maybe two. All the more reason to curse her stupidity because she felt even _worse_ than before now.

Closing the car door behind her, the blonde fought to wakefulness. "Where are we?" She asked, ignoring Sam's question.

They had pulled to a stop on a hard, black road. A wooded area stood out behind them and barely any buildings or life was anywhere. They were out of town obviously. Not that that really answered her question.

"Oh, we'll get there." Dean promised, his tone flippant but having a weird meaning to it.

His hard look lingered on her a moment before he walked over towards the car. He opened up his trunk and rummaged through it. She couldn't quite see what he was searching for, but he looked determined.

Buffy watched him in irritation. She was _so_ tired of this guy's attitude.

The blonde slayer turned to Sam—the nice one, the one she actually _liked_ —and frowned at him questioningly. The other demon hunter looked sympathetic, but just shrugged. No help there either.

Buffy looked to their surroundings again. A tall, rundown building loomed in front of them, clearly abandoned. At a first glance it just looked like a warehouse, but after closer inspection she realized it was a power plant. There was a smaller part built in a bank, lined by railings with underground stairs leading towards a door. The road they were on led out the other way, towards the city she guessed because all she saw around that was more green fields. Absolutely nowhere.

She was getting real tired of nowhere.

"This is nice. Warm and suburban and ... serial killer-y." Buffy quipped, a little nervous. Hitchhiking girl gets picked up by two guys, drives out of the city, and winds up staring at gloomy abandoned building. She's seen enough horror movies to know where this is going.

She heard the car trunk slam shut. Sam had joined Dean while Buffy had been examining the area and now both brothers were coming towards her. Sam had a bottle of holy water in his hand which raised no questions from her, but then she saw Dean carrying detergent. The slayer frowned thoroughly. Well, _that_ certainly made no sense.

Buffy was planning to say something really sarcastic, but as soon as they stopped in front of her Dean pulled out a knife. That thought quickly went out the window. "Alright, Blondie. Time for inspection."

Dean casually reached for her arm with the knife, but Buffy startled. She backed away. "W-What the hell are you doing?" She demanded. Maybe her half-joking thought of these two being serial killers and not demon hunters wasn't that far off.

Dean blinked, then turned to Sam sharply. Meaning sparked in his eyes, like a silent _'I told you so'_. Unspoken words passed between them in that brief glance and when they looked back at her their demeanor changed. The demon hunters were as tense as her. The wariness she had grown accustomed to in Dean's eyes reached Sam's and only magnified in his brother's.

"What are you up to?" The blonde slayer barked, on complete red alert. "Are you two trying to pull a _Wolf Creek_ on me?" Buffy accused, holding out her arm to keep them away. She felt very much right now like the dumb blonde girl who got in a stranger's van because they promised you candy.

Apparently her reaction shocked them. The suspicion on their faces was wiped clean off immediately, instead staring in disbelief. They glanced at each other again, confusion swirling in their identical green eyes. Buffy couldn't read that to save her life. Wasn't it a normal human reaction to get wiggy being held at knifepoint?

"We're not trying to hurt you." Sam said quickly, holding his hands out non-threateningly.

"Rather hear that from the guy with the _knife_." Buffy muttered, not taking her wary eyes off Dean.

The older Winchester spread out his own hands, still holding the knife loosely. "Hey, look, this is just a drill. We're just trying to make sure you're who you say you are." He explained matter-of-factly.

Buffy was still suspicious. "And what exactly does _that_ mean?"

"Monster-testing. We just need to make sure you're human." Sam elaborated.

 _So that knife Rambo_ _has must be silver then._ She figured. The blonde slayer relaxed slightly, but only slightly. Why did they need to test her? It was morning so she definitely wasn't a vampire. Most demons were obvious to spot and she couldn't be those black-eyed ones since she didn't even know those existed until a couple hours ago. This all just seemed awfully unnecessary.

"I'm not a monster." She told them frankly.

"We know, but just in case." Sam answered. He seemed sincere enough, but she could tell by the look in his eyes "no" wasn't really one of her options.

"Alright, let's just get this show on the road." Dean cut in with a hint of impatience, still holding the silver knife. "Gimme your arm." He ordered, gesturing for her to hand it out. When Buffy just stared at him dubiously, he gave her a look. "It's a _trust_ exercise. " He half-sassed, smiling at her insincerely.

Knowing she couldn't refuse, especially to this guy who obviously trusted her the least, Buffy gave a resigned roll of her eyes. She snatched the knife out of his hand before he could move and cut herself on her palm without hesitation. Her expression didn't change. She didn't even feel it. The slayer handed back the knife just as quickly, which Dean took back numbly. She couldn't help but relish the surprised, dumbfounded look on his face.

"See? Flying colors." Buffy said flippantly, holding up her hand to show them the shallow cut.

Before Dean could answer, Sam already stepped forward with his holy water. Buffy immediately rolled her eyes. "Not a _vampire_ either." She grumbled. Either these guys knew nothing about vampires or were just really, _really_ paranoid. Sad to say she couldn't tell which.

Sam drew back with a frown, looking puzzled.

This time Dean was the one composed. "Good to know. Now do it." The older demon hunter responded abruptly, looking at her in complete disinterest.

 _Paranoid._ Buffy decided, certain. She was about to take the holy water and drink it just to prove how idiotic they were being, but Sam opened the bottle and sprayed it. Water splashed across her face and shirt. Buffy stared down at her shirt incredulously, holding her arms out. She could not _believe_ they just did that!

The brothers studied her carefully a moment. Finally Sam shrugged. "She's clean." He remarked _way_ too casually for her current annoyance.

Buffy wiped the water off her face. " _Squeaky_." She said bitterly with a glib smile, glaring at them both unabashedly.

Sam looked almost sheepish. Dean didn't really react much, but he looked like he was trying hard not to. After a moment, she caught twitches of a smirk at the corner of his lips.

 _You two are_ so _lucky I'm tired of this outfit anyway._ Buffy thought darkly, tearing her gaze away reluctantly to study her shirt again. Her cross shirt had been a _great_ idea when she was about to patrol. She figured it was ironic. Now after three days of wearing it and everything she went through since she just wanted to burn it.

When Buffy raised her head, Dean was armed with the detergent. The blonde slayer raised her brow. "Is that supposed to do something?" The slayer asked pointedly. "What, are you _disinfecting_ me?"

Immediately after the sarcastic comment left her, the demon hunter doused her. Once again, her shirt suffered. " _Okay!_ What is with you two and splashing people?!" Buffy said incredulously, throwing out her hands.

Dean and Sam regarded her intensely for a couple moments.

"Hmm." Dean finally uttered thoughtfully, his eyes narrowed.

"She's human." Sam declared. His tone of voice made it sound like some huge mystery had just been cleared up.

Pulling on her soaked shirt in annoyance, the small blonde raised her eyes at them. "So did I pass your test?" She grumbled, narrowly stopping herself from the using the word "stupid". Which it was. Especially the detergent. What the hell would that do to _any_ monster?

Dean didn't answer, too busy studying her with an intense and thoughtful look in his eyes. Sam took over for him, thank god. "Yeah, you passed." He confirmed, nodding his head as he gave a small, apologetic smile.

Buffy shook her head in exasperation. She was just so done.

Dean observed her a moment longer, then shrugged. "Give it a C." He said reluctantly, walking away towards the car. Sam flashed her a quick smile, then followed his brother.

Buffy stared after Dean, baffled. Did nothing satisfy this guy? She didn't know what problem he had with her, but she was already so used to his moodiness she didn't even care anymore.

"Come on!" Dean called to her as he and his brother finished putting away their "testing equipment", gesturing impatiently for her to follow.

Making a face one more time at her shirt, Buffy rolled her eyes and obeyed. Questioning yet again _why_ she thought these two would help her find her friends, the small slayer trekked after them all the way until she was standing at the foot of a small set of stairs, staring at Sam and Dean as they stood by a door in the bank she had seen earlier.

"We're here." Sam announced. Dean was fiddling with the door handle.

The slayer frowned. "To where? Ground _Nowhere_?" She said dubiously as she walked down the steps, bewildered.

There was a click. Dean opened the door, stepping inside as he glanced back at her. "To our _Batcave_." He said simply with a meaningful expression, his back to the door.

Buffy looked at him questioningly, but he just walked fully inside and disappeared. Sam followed suit.

Her curiosity aroused, the blonde slayer went after them cautiously. The bank door lead to a dark tunnel with a flicker of light somewhere up ahead. Sam and Dean's shoulders were silhouetted against it only slightly ahead of her, their body language completely at ease. The ground seemed to slope downward as she headed deeper and deeper, making Buffy's careful curiosity heighten.

The tunnel suddenly turned into a brightly-lit upper floor, a fancy stairway railing facing her. Sam and Dean were there, watching her. Buffy walked past them and slowly grabbed the railing, looking downward. Her eyes widened. A large table with a map of the states stood in the center of the room, surrounded by furniture and communication equipment.

"You _live_ here?" Buffy said in disbelief. She understood completely now why Dean called it a "Batcave".

"Home, sweet home." Dean said dryly, walking and heading down the stairs.

 _How can you afford all this?_ The slayer wondered, completely thrown. Neither Sam or Dean looked like they had a lot of money. Their fashion sense spoke for themselves. How could two men who looked so cheap have a great car _and_ a base of operations like this? It just did not compute.

Buffy went down the stairs and through the room more slowly, gawking at everything she saw. _It's all so put together ..._ She thought, amazed.

It also kind of startled her too. It all eerily reminded her of the base her and her friends had put together back at the Slayer Organization. That told her a lot of things. One of them? Asking these two for help was actually the best thing she ever did.

"This place ..." Buffy began, following Dean into another room which she quickly realized was a library. "It's amazing." She said in awe, studying the numerous bookshelves and the retro-style furniture. _God, Giles could_ live _in here._ She thought with certainty. It all reminded her a lot of Giles. You could probably lock him in here for months and he wouldn't even notice.

"Still not used to it." Dean admitted, surveying the room.

"This is our base. There's a lot here ... if you need to find out what happened to your friends, then a lot of this could help." Sam reassured from across the room, still upstairs beside the stair railing.

"Thank you. Thank you _so much_." Buffy said feelingly, deeply grateful.

For the first real time since she was brought to Kansas, the slayer felt lighter. Fear for the safety of her friends lingered and still would until she knew what happened, but it was just nice to have _resources_ again. She needed that, now more than ever.

Sam disappeared into one of the hallways upstairs while Dean stayed where he was. He pulled out a chair and kicked his feet up on the table, watching her silently with a mixture of thoughtfulness and wary curiosity.

Buffy hardly noticed, too enthralled in exploring her surroundings. She caught sight of a scimitar sword on display and was immediately drawn to it.

Not bothering to ask first, she picked it up. "Y'know, I have something like this." She remarked casually. Buffy flipped it a few times in her hand, enjoying the feel of a sword again. She slashed it in the air with expert strokes, whirling her body around and thrusting it forward.

Dean reared back sharply, suddenly behind her just as she did the stabbing motion. Buffy's eyes widened. She immediately pulled it away, not having known he had gotten that close to her.

The demon hunter held up his hands defensively, looking tense. "Easy. Don't kebab me." He grumbled. He snatched the sword away. "And this one ain't yours." He told her, putting the sword back on display and shooting her a look.

Feeling bad but trying to play it off, Buffy pouted. "Spoil my fun."

The demon hunter scoffed quietly. He looked amused a moment, but too quickly his expression hardened again. "I gotta say, your reflexes are pretty damn fast for a—"

"A girl?" Buffy guessed, unimpressed.

Dean paused, narrowing his eyes slightly. " ... For a _hunter_." He said steadily, serious.

 _Ah._ That's _what his issue is._ The blonde slayer thought, her mind clearing. His behavior was starting to make a little sense to her now. He saw the way she beat up those demons and must've got suspicious. That explained a lot of _why_ he was her least favorite person right now. Too bad it also proved why she _couldn't_ tell him what she was if he was already acting like this.

Buffy shrugged. "You aren't that bad yourself." An obvious deflection, but not a lie.

Dean scoffed again, this time more incredulously but when he spoke his tone was neutral. "Yeah, well. I've been doing this gig a while."

" _There's_ a surprise." Buffy muttered dryly, more to herself. She knew the type. She had figured that out all on her own the minute he faced down those demons back in the alley. The sense of Dean's experience in demon-fighting had been immediate ... and maybe that had been why she wanted his help. Everything about this guy just screamed hardened.

The demon hunter eyed her like he wanted to know what she meant by that. Before he could say anything, footsteps sounded on the floor. Sam was emerging back into the library, a laptop grasped in one hand to his side. Buffy turned her attention to him immediately, her heart quickening at finally the prospect of action.

"Here." Sam began, setting it on the library table and sitting in a chair. "You can look up anything going on in Scotland the last two days. Dean and I ... we usually research unexplained deaths or missing persons' reports." The brown-haired demon hunter explained, signing in on the laptop. He looked up at her apologetically. "I know it's not much ..."

"No, no ... it's a lot." Buffy said thoughtfully, pulling out the chair next to him. "Thank you so much for this." She told him again meaningfully, not sure she'd ever get tired of saying it.

Sam half-shrugged. "It's what we do. Help people." He brushed off nonchalantly, eyes focused on the screen as he pulled up search pages.

Buffy gave a small smile. Wherever Sam came from, she was glad she found him and his brother. The blonde slayer couldn't say she liked Dean as much, but clearly even _he_ wasn't as bad as he seemed. They were both very different, but one thing was the same: choosing to help her when they hadn't needed to. That gave them a pass in her book.

"So how _exactly_ are you supposed to start looking?" Dean spoke up pointedly, his arms crossed. He was a slight distance away from them, maybe three or four feet, but had clearly been paying attention. "I mean, you said it yourself. You don't know what caused the radio silence. Where's the lead?" He said skeptically.

Buffy hesitated. She had an idea, but voicing it brought dangerous territory. There was a _lot_ she wasn't telling these guys, like the Slayer Organization and government manhunt. The blonde figured it was safer all around to keep quiet.

 _These guys don't recognize me ... like_ at all. _So they must not know about the Slayer Organization either, right?_ She reasoned.

The flaw in that logic was ridiculous. These demon hunters were obviously full, red-blooded Americans and not a single shred of recognition. But she had thought the same about Tom from the bar and look how that went. Maybe she could risk this one ... just a _little_.

"Well, we can start at missing persons' reports. It's been two days. They're bound to have them out by now." Sam suggested, already starting to type something out on the computer.

"Try Dunsworth Castle in Perth, between something called the River Tummel." Buffy interrupted. At Sam and Dean's confused looks, she went on. "It's where we live." She admitted, uncomfortable at the exposure she trained herself to avoid these past couple years.

The brothers stared at her.

"You live in a damn _castle_?" Dean said incredulously.

 _Kinda had to._ The slayer thought awkwardly, remembering. After the big scene in L.A. two years ago, Buffy and her slayers ran from the U.S. far and fast. That lead them to Scotland and rickety old Dunsworth. It had been abandoned for quite some time when they discovered it so it still wasn't that nice, but for a organization on the run it had been like the Hilton.

Buffy understood the brothers' reaction though. She certainly didn't _look_ like a someone who lived in a castle. Not unlike Sam and Dean and how they lived in a fancy, underground hide-out.

"Welcome to Scotland." She said dismissively to Dean, still looking at Sam.

The taller Winchester was baffled. "How is looking up your _home_ supposed to—"

Buffy shook her head. "It's a _really_ long story. Just please do it." The blonde slayer told him, helpless with the situation. She knew if the government had sacked their base, that'd definitely be reported in a lot of articles. She wasn't going to flaunt that in their face though. She didn't know if that happened and she didn't want any more attention.

Sam didn't move, his eyes full of questions. Dean was giving her that hard, penetrating stare again—the stare she now called his "spill everything or else" look—but too bad for him because he just wasn't getting anything.

Hovering a moment in limbo, Sam finally turned back to the laptop and started typing in the address.

 _Thank god._ Buffy thought, thanking any higher power she could for finding Sam for help. She knew if she had just been left alone with Dean, none of this would be going as smoothly.

Tension tingled every nerve on her body as she realized how close she was to knowing her friends' fate. A part of her was scared at what she'd find. She wanted to believe they were safe, whether the government or a new Big Bad infiltrated her base. But there was one golden rule of slaying Buffy learned quite quickly: Prepare for the bad, expect worse.

"So ... why Scotland anyway?" Dean asked suddenly. The demon hunter's expression was skeptical, but morbidly curious. "You're obviously not a Scottie. I don't see any plaid or bagpipes hanging off you."

Wow. This guy just _loved_ to ask questions, didn't he?

"Work." Buffy answered simply, immediately turning back to Sam's work on the computer. She didn't care if that didn't satisfy Dean. That was the least complicated way she could describe it.

Buffy leaned closer to Sam, trying to get a good look at the searches. The first few options on the page didn't point to any castle (Buffy wasn't sure to be disconcerted or relieved) so the blonde slayer's eyes followed him as he scrolled down further.

Towards the end, she stopped dead. The date was in the computer. Her mind just a fraction from blank, she read it numbly. _February_ _23rd ..._ _2015._

Everything seemed to blur, alternating between swaying and frozen in place. Nothing around her registered anymore. Buffy was certain for a moment her heart stopped. _But it's ... 2006._ The blonde slayer's own thought process seemed sluggish, but rang with a piercing clarity. _This can't be right ... something's wrong. This is impossible._

Then Buffy remembered. In her world, what was impossible?

Electric shock jogged all of her senses. Suddenly every possible possibility to what this meant fell over her and with every one, another flash of fear and panic accompanied it. _I'm nine years in the future?!_ Buffy thought in disbelief, blown away.

She had missed nine years of her life. Nine years of _Dawn's_ life. Her _friends'_ life. _Everything_.

 _Oh, this so is not good ..._ Buffy thought in a groan, pulled between violent waves of despair and confusion. What could've happened in _nine_ years? Was that why the Slayer Organization seemed nonexistent? It disbanded? _Why_? Her panic swelled and for the first time _truly_ ... she wasn't sure she could handle the answer to that.

Her golden rule of slaying just never failed her.

"Well, you two crazy kids have at it." Dean's voice registered dimly to her tattered senses, but she couldn't even turn to look at him even if she wanted to. "I'm gonna go on a run. Stash the bunker." The demon hunter announced.

"Are you sure it's not Dunalastair Castle?"

Reality was too terrifying at the moment, but Sam's voice dragged her back. He had a page pulled up on the computer, containing an image of a large, derelict castle.

It took a moment for her to fully register to it, still desperately trying to control her shakiness. Finally it hit her. Buffy frowned. "... That can't be right." She said with a shake of her head, her voice wavering a bit.

"Perth, Scotland. Dunalastair Castle. Between the River Tummel and Tummel Bridge, west of Kinloch Rannoch." Sam described matter-of-factly, glancing back at her meaningfully. "It's not Dunsworth."

Buffy's mind blanked, unable to see past anything now except her rollercoaster of horrible feelings. The worst conclusions came back. Fear squeezed her harder.

"How long has it been there?" She asked tensely.

The brown-haired demon hunter frowned. "What's that have to do with—"

 _"How long?!"_ Buffy demanded angrily, her glare on him wild.

"Whoa, hey." Dean's voice reached her again, a meaningful edge to his voice this time. Apparently having changed his mind on leaving, the older Winchester had rounded the table to stand closer to her. "No need to get short here."

Buffy ignored him completely. Her rope of emotional control was so close to snapping.

A little startled but sensing it's importance, Sam typed in something else and clicked on another article. "Built in 1745, lived in all the way up to 1854. Abandoned ever since." The brown-haired demon hunter informed, glancing back at her questioningly.

The blonde slayer couldn't react, too numb by her own shock. That information should've relieved her, but this castle looked nothing like the one she lived in. But Sam wasn't wrong either. Everything he said was the exact location of where her and the Slayer Organization lived. Even if she was in the future, she should be looking at a picture of Dunsworth right now. Not this.

Nothing was making sense anymore ... but they hadn't in a while. Slowly, almost robotically, everything started to fit together. They all became a part of one big puzzle she had _never_ wanted to solve. _No one knows me ... Sunnydale ... the Slayer Organization ... like it all got whited out._ The blonde slayer thought tensely. Because it _did_.

A cataclysm of emotions swamped over Buffy: disbelief, shock, confusion ... but fear wasn't one of them anymore. Rapid fury burned in her stomach as the realization sunk in more and more. The blonde slayer wished she had seen it earlier. She _should've_ seen it earlier. Her expression steeled.

 _None of this is real._

Buffy darted out of the chair, rising up and whipping around violently. The chair clattered to the door. Dean immediately backed off, throwing up his hands defensively with a startled look on his face. Sam looked equally taken aback.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa." Dean exclaimed.

The blonde slayer was in a completely different headspace. " _Very_ funny. _Finally_ fresh meat shows up, wanting to start the next apocalypse and you send me to dream world. _Really?_ That's all you got?" Buffy challenged, her green gaze hard on the ceiling. "Well, let me tell _you_ something. _The Truman Show_ , Buffy edition officially canceled." She declared in fiery determination. "I'm gonna break out of here and when I do, the first thing I'm gonna do is stop you. And you better hope I don't."

Sam rose from the chair, frowning. "What?" He said incredulously.

"Hey, hold on a second." Dean began, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" Buffy snapped, whirling around and shoving him off. "You're not real. None of this is." The blonde slayer stated harshly. She looked sharply back at ceiling, knowing the Big Bad that put her was somewhere out there. "Hoped I wouldn't notice? That I wouldn't _figure_ it out? Guess again."

"Hey, _Britney Spears_! Lose the breakdown!" Dean retorted, his expression contorted in frustration. "This isn't some timey-wimey, _Inception_ crap. _We're_ real." The demon hunter insisted, gesturing to himself and Sam.

"That's just what it'd want me to think!" The blonde answered bitingly, her green gaze steel. "Helping me, making me trust you, keeping me off it's back, distracting me so it can run the show back out there ... _not_ happening." Buffy argued adamantly.

"Look, we get it. You can't trust anyone." Sam spoke up, walking towards her as he threw out his arms calmingly. "But whatever you're thinking, whatever's going through your mind, it's _wrong_. This isn't a dream. Me and Dean ... this is _real_." The younger Winchester told her meaningfully.

Buffy refused to be fooled. " _Nothing_ here is how I know it. And you're telling me it's not some kind of trap?" The small blonde shot back sharply. She shook her head. "I'm not that blonde. This has to be some kind of weird dreamscape." She said with conviction. "Red pill or blue pill. I chose red."

"You already took the friggin' red pill." Dean said irritably. He rolled his eyes, letting out a deep breath and wiping a hand down his face as he tried to be patient. "Look ... something obviously went ass-up here." He acknowledged bluntly. "Hell, I knew that the minute I met you." He muttered more pointedly, half to himself. "But instead of freaking out on us, how about you cool it and we help you figure this puppy out, okay?"

"Seems pretty clear to me." Buffy replied, tilting her head slightly as she flashed a defiant stare.

"Oh, god." Dean said in immediate exasperation, walking away from her.

"Just give us a chance." Sam appealed.

Buffy's eyes flicked between them, rigid with tension. The slayer still violently rebelled against believing them. She didn't want to get sucked in or fooled, not when her friends were now probably in danger. It was just too risky ... but something inside her softened, just a little. The only thing—literally the _only_ thing—that made her consider they were real was that why would they try to help her figure this out if she was meant to be trapped here?

 _Maybe I can hear them out ... at least._

Sighing, the slayer crossed her arms. "Okay. Psych analyze me." The blonde slayer agreed grudgingly.

Sam and Dean looked at each other.

"So ... you said nothing here is how you know it?" Sam prompted, looking at her meaningfully.

"Nope. Like I fell head-first into _Bizarro World_." Buffy confirmed flippantly, her expression not changing.

The Winchesters glanced at each other again, more seriously this time, some unspoken thought passing between them. She was starting to really hate how much they did that.

Dean refocused on her. "Okay. So you're a hunter." He began matter-of-factly, gesturing to her with his hand.

"I'm _not_ a hunter." The blonde denied sharply, for the first time being truthful. Total secrecy at this point seemed pretty redundant.

"You kill monsters!" Dean replied impatiently, scowling just a fraction.

Buffy didn't protest. No argument there.

The Winchester pulled back, crossing his arms. "Alright. Pop quiz. How do you kill shapeshifters?"

The small slayer drew a blank. She shook her head. "Never heard of 'em."

"Ghost?"

Buffy frowned deeply. "You can kill a _ghost_?" She said skeptically, giving him a weird look.

Dean looked a bit disbelieving, giving Sam a sideways glance. Funnily enough, his younger brother looked nearly as incredulous.

Composure back, the demon hunter turned to her again. "Werewolves?" He asked cautiously.

The small blonde sat back down on the library chair, relaxing slightly at last. Finally, something she _could_ answer. "Silver." She answered matter-of-factly.

Dean looked surprised. The demon hunter smirked a second, impressed. Sam shrugged, sporting his own _'Not bad'_ expression. "Alright, what about vampires?" He went on, his posture relaxing just a trifle.

 _Now_ that _I know a thing or two on._ The blonde thought meaningfully, glad to finally swerve the topic towards her specialty. "Stake to the heart, beheading, fire. Sunlight if you wanna fry them extra crispy. Holy water and crosses too, if you just wanna to piss them off." The small slayer listed off expertly, her tone unwavering.

The Winchesters stared at her speechlessly for a long moment, their expressions completely baffled. The reaction made Buffy nervous.

" ... _Stake_?" Dean repeated at last flatly.

"You're not serious." Sam said dubiously.

"Deadly." The slayer deadpanned.

Okay. She knew something weird was going on but whether it was a dream world or just anywhere-but-home, she didn't like the way the brothers were looking at her. She was used to knowing what she was talking about on these things, not like she was an idiot. It bothered her a lot. Buffy found herself wishing they still looked impressed.

Apparently trying to shrug it off, Dean regrouped and fixed her with that probing stare again. " _Okay_... what about demons?" He seemed to be bracing himself.

Buffy was growing so uncomfortable she wasn't sure she wanted to answer that, but dug down deep and opened her mouth. "Depends on the demon. Personally, axes and swords are usually my go-to." She answered as firmly as she could, trying to channel her slayer confidence again.

Dean and Sam both stared at her blankly. The blonde's discomfort heightened.

"Alright, that's enough of that." Dean said quickly and dismissively, shaking his head as he turned away. He looked severely weirded out.

The blonde slayer stood up from the chair. "What?" She asked them carefully, her tension returning to her body again. The question was pointless. Buffy had a feeling she already knew.

Dean glanced back at her, regarding her dubiously. "So ... out of all that monster-prepped arsenal ... they actually _work_?" He checked skeptically, gesturing with his arm.

Buffy shrugged. "Have for ten years."

Dean looked even more incredulous. Sam stepped forward, looking slightly less overwhelmed than his brother. "How _we_ do hunting ... our rules are a lot different." The brown-haired demon hunter began. Buffy thought Dean looked relieved to be freed of explaining this. "Stakes, sunlight, fire ... on vampires here, those don't work. It's just beheading. Simple and clean." He explained. "And holy water? That's not for vampires. That's for _demons_."

The blonde slayer stared. " ... _Demons_?" She repeated, giving him a weird look.

Sam nodded. "And another thing. Demons here ... they're practically unkillable. Swords, axes, guns ... none of it works. Just a special knife and blades do the job." The younger Winchester went on matter-of-factly. He shook his head. "The way _you_ put it ... I wish I could say it was that easy." He admitted, a burdened look in his eyes.

Buffy was silent in shocked realization. _That ... explains a lot._ She thought numbly, suddenly every weird thing she witnessed the past couple days fitting together. That knife Sam was talking must've been the one Dean had when they met. It explained why everything she did to those demons had no effect. The holy water from before had been a demon check, not a vampire check.

Even knowing that now though, nothing was fully clicking for the blonde slayer. Everything she had trained herself to know the past ten years was stripped away little by little, abandoned and lost at sea. Discomfort, confusion, and a burst of frustration shot through her. Something was _very_ wrong with where she was now ... but the "new rules" almost felt more wrong.

Frowning deeply, Buffy shook her head. "Not in my neck of the woods. Vampires and demons stay classical. A stake here, a sword or axe there ... a little pounding and then, dead demon. It's not 'jump the shark' material or anything." The blonde slayer told them in bewilderment.

" _Okay_." Dean broke in meaningfully, throwing out his hands as he walked towards her. "Let me just get this straight. _All of that ..._ actually works?" He reiterated. "Just walk out, find a demon, a quick slice-and-dice, then _'Hey, pizza's on me!'_ " The demon hunter summed up, smiling sarcastically at the end.

"Do I need to get a microphone? _Yes!_ " Buffy answered impatiently.

"Son of a bitch." Dean said incredulously, looking over at his brother. Buffy swore Dean looked pissed. The older hunter shook his head several times vehemently. "Nope, nope ... I am too sober for this conversation." Dean remarked matter-of-factly, already turning away down one of the halls. "I'm getting a beer."

"Mind if you get me one?" Sam asked tiredly.

Dean waved his hand to show he heard. Buffy watched him go with a frown until Sam started speaking again. "Okay, so ... different castle, different vampires, different demons." The brown-haired demon hunter began meaningfully, apparently trying to regain his composure.

"For starters." The blonde slayer confirmed tiredly, just as Dean reappeared with two beers and handed his brother one. Sam took it with one eye still trained on Buffy. "There's also the different timeline."

 _"Timeline?"_ Sam repeated, skepticism in his expression.

 _Sadly._ The slayer thought reluctantly. "Last I checked, it was early 2006. Here for some reason it's 2015." Buffy revealed flatly, resisting the urge to frown at her own words. There was just _no_ explaining that one.

The brothers both stared at her, stunning them yet again. Dean quickly just shook his head, popped the cap off his beer and took a large swig. A silent response he was staying out of this one.

Once again, Sam was forced to take over. "So ... different timeline." The younger Winchester added, his face twitching a bit uncomfortably.

 _Also, no Slayer Organization, no Sunnydale and probably no slayers ... but I'll give a pass for those ones._ Buffy thought. Not only was she pretty sure she'd give these two a heart attack if she dumped anymore information on them, but she wasn't that willing to divulge. At least not anything about slayers or the Slayer Organization.

Sam sucked in a breath, looking like he was bracing himself. "Buffy ... I think you're from a alternate universe." He told her gravely.

"Oh?" Buffy responded innocently. "And _here_ I was thinking this was all just some overnight, proactive Demon Reformation Act." The blonde slayer remarked in biting glib, giving Sam an unimpressed look. Was that supposed to be breaking news?

Sam frowned at her, pulling back slightly with an embarrassed and uncomfortable expression. Dean stopped his beer close to his mouth a moment, signs of a smirk on his face. He looked he was trying to stop himself from chuckling.

Taking one last chug of his beer, Dean apparently decided to suck himself back into conversation. "Alright." He began, still looking slightly amused as he lowered his beverage. "Do you remember anything from when you got zapped here?"

The blonde slayer drew a blank of course, but she really tried to think. Maybe she could've blacked it out? After a couple moments of more blanks, she gave up. "Still nothing. I was after this vampire and then ... pretty white light." Buffy explained reluctantly. She frowned. "After that, I'm pretty sure I blacked out."

"Could the vampire have had anything to do with it?" Sam asked, looking at her intently. "I mean, he was the last monster you remember seeing, right?" He reasoned, throwing out his arms.

" _Yeah_ , Sam. A vamp can just whisk you off inter-dimensional." Dean remarked cuttingly, looking dubious. Immediately, he turned to her. "Wait, can they?" He asked in pure curiosity.

"With a spell, I guess." Buffy acknowledged with a shrug, her own doubt creeping into her voice. "But nah, I don't think it was that one. He was running _away_ from me. Real low-tier, minion-y stuff." She pointed out, frowning. She supposed he could've been a decoy ... but something about that didn't feel right either.

"Damn vamps. They're the same everywhere." Dean commented with a shake of his head, drinking his beer.

Sam frowned deeply, clearly trying to think this through. Finally he shook his head. "Well, if that's all you know, then there's not really anything we can do about it." The younger demon hunter said logically. When Buffy immediately opened her mouth in protest, he quickly clarified. " _Right now._ We can still look into it later. Personally, I think you should just bunk down."

The blonde slayer quieted, lowering her eyes. Her mind was so fried at this point she practically felt like a zombie. How could she possibly even be awake right now or even talking she chalked it all up to simple force of will. Lack of sleep was common for Buffy nowadays, but with the combination of stress, fighting, and going on sleep-deprived the way she had been it hadn't been this bad in a long time.

She shook her head. "I can't sleep yet."

Uttering that simple sentence made her overtired and still battered body cry in protest, but Buffy just wasn't ready. She still felt in uncertain territory. She didn't know if this world was real or not. If this was a dream world, then she shouldn't be sleeping. Her friends and her slayers may very well be in danger.

Sam's expression grew pointed. "When's the last time you _really_ slept?"

The blonde really wanted to lie, but figured she looked as dead as she felt so she didn't bother. " ... Three days ago." Buffy admitted reluctantly, quietly. Saying it out loud seemed to make her body ten times heavier.

Sam gave her a look, almost stern.

Dean looked uncomprehending. "Yeah, you need rest." He said in quick matter-of-factness. "We got extra rooms here. You can stay the night." The older demon hunter told her with ease.

Buffy was surprised. Dean hadn't treated her very hospitable at all up until now. The blonde slayer looked back over at Sam, who was nodding in agreement. "If you don't remember what brought you here, maybe you'll remember later. You need to _sleep_." The younger Winchester urged.

The blonde slayer paused, the words starting to sift slowly through her clouded brain. She couldn't argue with Sam's logic, but she couldn't say she felt she was still out of no-man's land yet. _There's a question mark and then another question mark ... is it safe to even sleep here?_ Buffy wondered yet again, torn. She didn't know what was real or what wasn't anymore.

"Hey, look." Dean prompted pointedly, his green gaze on her intent. "Right now we got squat on sending you back or who brought you here or whatever. Falling through your ass ain't gonna help nobody."

Buffy floundered, lowering her eyes uncomfortably. They were right. If this wasn't a dream world and was an actual universe, then going sleepless would be dumb. That wouldn't help her find her way back to her friends, that's for sure. Her vast reserves of questions were not going away, but maybe just for a nap or two she could tolerate that.

The blonde slayer stood up. "Alright, _alright_. _Fine_. I'll get some shut-eye." She relented grudgingly. The slayer smiled glibly. "With any luck, I'll wake up from _Wonderland_ and all of this will just will be a really, _really_ bad dream." Buffy voiced, unable to keep out the cynicism.

Doubtful. The _waking up_ part, anyway.

"Hate to break it to you, but it's not a dream." Dean told her matter-of-factly.

"You're in _our_ world." Sam insisted.

Buffy scoffed at their casualness. " ... Funny how the idea of a whole other reality isn't exactly earth-shattering for you." The blonde pointed out dryly, looking at them pointedly.

"It's not our first rodeo." Dean said, a meaningful look on his face.

Sam scoffed and nodded just as significantly, his own expression indicating a very, _very_ long story.

The blonde slayer frowned deeply. Were they saying what she thought they were saying? _And that is a story for never._ Buffy thought with feeling, making a mental note to never ask clarification or details on that ... _ever_.

"So where's my room?" Buffy asked.

The brothers looked at each other. Dean was the one that acted first. "Alright. Come on, you." The demon hunter prompted unenthusiastically, gesturing for her to follow as he headed in the direction of the communications room.

"We'll keep looking into how to send you back." Sam reassured.

Buffy glanced back and forced a smile at him over her shoulder, not sure what to think of that but trying to be grateful.

The blonde caught up with Dean, who was picking his way up the staircase. Even with the lethargy defiantly trying to silence her over-wired mind, the slayer's slew of second thoughts just couldn't wilt away. _Is any of this real?_ Buffy thought, so uncertain. She didn't know anything anymore. The slayer didn't even know what to trust.

Buffy could handle crazy. A dream world? Okay. She knew how to work around that. But being _stuck_ in an _alternate_ _universe_? That was new ground for her. She had a very specific _brand_ of crazy and this one wasn't in the price range. So since when did _her_ crazy because _this_ crazy?

"So ..." Dean spoke up suddenly when they walked up the stairs, glancing at her. "Back during your freak-out in the library ... you said something about the 'next apocalypse.'" The demon hunter brought up. "You had an apocalypse?" There was morbid curiosity in his eyes.

Buffy shrugged. "Not lately. _More_ than enough though."

Dean stopped, turning to face her. "And you stop them." He was looking at her intently.

"Every one." The blonde slayer confirmed calmly. After a moment, she frowned slightly. "Though I haven't yet ended the evil, apocalyptic tyranny of bad fashion sense ..." Buffy couldn't help herself, only partly joking.

"So you have apocalypses, fight monsters, _and_ save the world on the side?" Dean summed up, expression critical.

"... Sometimes I see a movie." Buffy offered lamely, trying to look innocent.

Dean scoffed, shaking his head with an expression between amused and disbelieving.

The slayer studied this carefully. "What?"

"Ah, it's nothing." The demon hunter told her, still a shadow of a smirk on his face as he headed a little deeper into the hallway.

Buffy watched him warily. Most normal people freaked out after hearing her resume, but not Dean. He just seemed to find it mildly amusing, which could mean just about ten different things. That bothered her a lot ... and maybe made her just a little curious. She just couldn't read this guy to save her life.

The blonde slayer caught up to Dean just as he pushed open a door further down the hallway. "Mi casa, es su casa." He quipped, gesturing to the room.

The first thing she saw was the bed. It stuck out sharply right in the middle of room, a twin bed with plain brown-and-white sheets. The rest of the area wasn't that much to brag about. It was surrounded with four white walls, coated with dust and completely blank. The only furniture in it other than the bed was a bookshelf and a small end table with a old-fashioned desk lamp.

"Homey." Buffy deadpanned as she wiped her fingers on the end table, which instantly collected dust.

"Hey, don't hate. This place hasn't had a lot of people." Dean said near-defensively.

 _Well, with your 'people skills', why wouldn't it?_ Buffy thought mockingly, wiping the dust off her fingers. She let out a breath, surveying the room.

"It's ... _livable_. Least I have the dust mites to keep me company." The slayer commented cynically as she looked around, her expression flat. It wasn't her room in the castle, but it had a bed and right now that's about all she cared about.

"It's temporary. As soon as we find that do-over button, you're high-tailing outta here back to your world." Dean said in no uncertain terms. He was still standing in the doorway, his expression firm.

 _I really want to stop hearing the word 'world'._ Buffy grumbled, her natural discomfort resurfacing. " _Or_ this is some sick, twisted Dreamland my new foe boxed me in and I just break out _myself_ instead of listening to two figments." The slayer pointed out with an edge, unable to help herself.

Dean snorted. "You're _still_ stuck on that whole _'I'm in a dream'_ thing?" He said incredulously.

"Makes better sense than this." The small blonde simply.

"You'd be surprised." The demon hunter said meaningfully. When Buffy rolled her eyes, Dean continued. "Look. You fight monsters. The weird, the scary, the crazy. Save to you've seen a lot of crap, right?" He prompted as he gestured at her, walking into the room.

"Yeah." Buffy answered casually, giving a small shrug.

"So after _all_ that, is it _that_ hard to believe the supernatural world sent you on a otherworldly field trip?" The demon hunter reasoned, giving her a look. "There's a lot weirder out there than an alternate universe, believe me." Dean said with feeling.

Buffy paused. Dean had a point. It wasn't like this was her first exposure to alternate realities. Willow's vampire doppelganger and the havoc she wreaked in Sunnydale definitely tested for that. It was still weird though. She never though it'd be _her_ in that position.

"If it's not a dream, then it's a trap." Buffy argued. "Some new evil wanting world domination sent me here so it can do whatever it wants and now I'm not there to stop them." The blonde slayer elaborated sharply, her green gaze hard.

"Well, if that's the case, it could've just killed you. Take you out then, problem solved." Dean said matter-of-factly.

That got Buffy again. That was a good point too, but that only depended on if her new enemy had integrity. Too many of them were cowardly, manipulative and under-handed. "Let's just say I have a colorful reputation." The small slayer responded vaguely.

At this point she was starting to wonder if it even mattered whether or not she was in a dream universe or a real one. The conclusion was the same. It was probably the work of a new enemy starting another apocalypse and a ploy to keep her way. Her friends might be in danger and no matter which area it fell in, Buffy still wasn't there.

"So you're _sure_ some evil bastard did this to you?" Dean prompted, skepticism in his eyes.

The slayer rolled her eyes. _Of course_ she wasn't sure, but with her luck that's the direction it was heading. "Look. I have a bad history ... and a long, long line of enemies just dying to get rid of me. So when I wake up in Bizzaro World, no explanation, you connect a few dots." Buffy explained seriously. "I can't just _sit_ here and take up twiddling when the next _apocalypse_ might be starting!" She said sharply.

Dean paused, a thoughtful look on his face as he mulled her words over. " ... Hey, I get it. But right now, we got nothing." The Winchester stated simply, shaking his head. "But me and Sam ... we're _real_. You wanna strike out on your own, go ahead. But you won't last." He went on seriously. "You don't trust us ... but right now we're all you got."

The demon hunter pinned her with his serious stare a moment longer before he exited out of the room and disappeared down the hallway.

Buffy stared after where he vanished for a few moments, his words resonating in her and warring with her uncertainty. _Maybe he might be right ... maybe. They are real._ The slayer considered, frowning.

Now that she thought about it, the dream theory had holes. What kind of enemy would conjure up a place that had such obvious consistencies to what _she_ knew? The trick was to not make it too obvious so she was complacent, not give her every reason to tell her something was wrong. Even the most arrogant villain would try a little harder than _that_ to fool her.

 _This is literally insane. Stuck in a different universe? Just when I think my life can't ever get any weirder._ Buffy reflected meaningfully, shaking her head.

Even under the weight of everything, the blonde slayer still had some of her doubts. Say she was in alternate universe. What gave her any reason to really trust Sam and Dean? They fought monsters, sure, but she didn't know anything about them. They were just two guys she met in a bad spot. It could still be a trap.

 _Dean_ _and Sam seem like nice guys ... but I'm not sure if I can trust 'nice'._ Buffy thought, torn.

Buffy walked deeper into the room, running her palm across the stiff and dusty sheets of her makeshift bed. The blonde slayer pulled a wooden stake out of her pocket, staring down at it listlessly. Memories of her friends, the slayers, and staking vampires flowed over her and with it, a bittersweet ache.

She didn't know anything, it was true. But that was just an excuse. Buffy had to do whatever it took to find a way back home, even if it meant taking risks. The one thing she had known throughout all of this, even before knowing she was in a different world ... was that she couldn't do it alone. Buffy poked the stake's tip absently. _It's a gamble ... but I need help._

* * *

~~Dean~~

Dean ventured downstairs, his mind a chaotic swarm of information overload as he crossed through the communication room back to the library. His brother was still in there, sitting on the chair close to the table sipping his beer when he saw him approaching.

"Is she settled in?" Sam asked as his older brother walked up.

"As close as she's gonna get." Dean told him pointedly, picking up the beer he left on the table. "Whatever fuss she makes, Buffy will probably knocked out for at least while. Saves us the time to get our own things done." He remarked, taking a swig of his beer. He paused, reflecting. " ... First the mutant demon, now a chick from an alternate universe. We ever gonna get a break?" The hunter muttered.

Sam shook his head. "It's just been one of those months." He replied resignedly, looking overwhelmed himself.

Dean said nothing, not sure how to feel. When the day started, he had been at least eighty percent certain Buffy was a monster. Just another Ruby trying to trick them. Yet, she had passed all the tests for human and made it apparent she wasn't from around here at all (literally). Top it all off with her obsession in finding her friends and fanaticism over an apocalypse ... Buffy didn't seem all that bad.

However, none of that explained what Dean witnessed when she fought those demons. Even if she passed their tests, she hadn't _moved_ human at all. Dean supposed he could've imagined it ... maybe. There was also the chance though that if she was a monster and from a different world, why would those tests work anyway?

The hunter shook his head. He didn't know anything anymore. The only thing he did know was that regardless of Buffy's seeming innocence, Dean needed to approach her carefully. Until more things started clearing up, she was still that wild card.

"Vampires and stakes, demons and no mess, a nine-year time gap ... Friggin' _Twilight Zone_." Dean listed off incredulously, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I hear ya. Believe me." His little brother agreed feelingly. "But at least we know now she's not making it up."

"Or maybe she's just _crazy_." The older hunter suggested meaningfully, unable to help himself. "It's always the hot ones." Dean added in regret, drinking more of his beer and shaking his head in disappointment.

Sam paused, his expression hardening. "What _is_ crazy in our world, Dean?"

 _You got me there._ Dean admitted to himself, resigning judgment immediately. "Okay. So Buffy's not full blown 'bats in the belfry'." He acknowledged. "That's supposed to mean we should help her? I mean, between closing the Gates, Crowley, and our new demon pal ... we got _enough_ on our plate."

Sam wasn't fazed. "We do cases. She's just another case."

Dean looked at him resignedly, trying to be aggravated but not really getting there. He was just being practical. They had no idea how long it would take for Buffy to go back home and they couldn't afford wasting time. On some level though, Dean figured he was also making excuses just to make excuses. He guessed the weirdness still got to him—and the fact he still wasn't sure if Buffy was human.

Studying his little brother's resolve, a trickle of frustration went though Dean. Underneath everything, he _agreed_ with Sam. He wasn't heartless. Turning away a innocent girl just wasn't who Dean was. Buffy didn't exactly give him any reason not to trust her, though common sense told him that didn't mean she never would.

 _Damn._ Dean thought, knowing his reservations were crumbling. He _wanted_ to help Buffy. Maybe not as trustingly as Sam, but still. No matter how much this whole affair irked him, the hunter knew in the end he couldn't say no. Dean still questioned the intelligence of that decision, but at this point ... what the hell.

The older Winchester sighed. "So, what? We just toss around ideas on who brought _Alice_ the hunter on our doorstep?" He prompted reluctantly, not having to try too hard to look unenthused.

"It's a place to start." His younger brother agreed.

Dean worked through ideas. He knew it couldn't have been a lot of things to send Buffy to their world, based on the manner she described it. That was very, very specific. " ... Angels, maybe?" He suggested. "I mean, they've deLoereaned us how many times? Universe-hopping shouldn't be that far out there under 'special skills'."

"Or gods." Sam pointed out. "But we're looking at this through tunnel vision, Dean. Angels, gods ... those are _our_ rules. Buffy's got a whole other kind." His younger brother reminded him meaningfully, "We don't know what she's got out there. Literally _anything_ could've brought her here."

The hunter scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, good luck narrowing _that_ down. She told me herself she's on practically every monster hit list back at home. It's a needle in a haystack." Dean said skeptically.

"Well, what are we supposed to _do_ , Dean? Just leave her?" Sam said incredulously, frustrated.

"We're not ... we're not _leaving_ her." Dean clarified with an edge, looking at his little brother sharply. "I'm just saying it's asking for a damn _lot_. We're knee-deep in so much crap already and now we're playing Lost  & Found." The hunter recapped agitatedly. "We just gotta keep our eyes on the ball here, Sammy."

"Don't we always?" Sam replied with a small shrug, looking weary.

Dean said nothing, just drinking his beer as it. He knew, deep down, him and his brother could multi-task. As long as they stayed focused on their other problems alongside Buffy, then it'd probably work. Dean still stood by what he said. They'd give Buffy a shot as long as they didn't get stupid.

"Well, I do know one thing." The older hunter said suddenly, raising his head. Sam looked at him questioningly. Dean met it meaningfully. "We finally met someone with a life as screwed up as ours."

* * *

 **A/N:** **There's Chapter 3. :) Sorry it's so much shorter. Usually my chapters are longer than this, but I had the outline for Chapter 3 and this is just how it turned out. On the bright side, since it was short, I was able to update it faster so I hope you found it worth it! Don't get used to it though. xD**

 **Writing Buffy interacting with the Supernatural universe is all kinds of fun. xD The two shows are so alike yet so different and writing the characters' reactions is so entertaining (Especially Buffy and Dean's sarcasm ... they're truly my sass babies. xD) And finally everyone realizes Buffy is more than just lost, but from a different universe.** **About the timeline ... This is SPN S8-centered, which was released in 2013, but factoring in the two time-skip years between 5 & 6 and 7 & 8, the actual show timeline should be 2015, not 2013. Sam is 31 and Dean is 35. Technically, Buffy should be 33 if the timelines for both shows were the same, but since she's from 2006 she's 25. I know it's confusing, but I promise this will all be cleared up as the story goes along. Just sit tight! **

**We leave off with Sam, Dean, and Buffy agreeing to really work together, even though they still have trust issues (well, Buffy and Dean at least lol). I know Dean is a lot more distrusting and suspicious of things than Sam is so writing him warming him up to Buffy all at once under these circumstances isn't quite like him. I'm just trying to capture his character right. :)**

 **Next chapter I'm very fond of ... what happens when you throw Buffy in a Supernatural-style monster hunt? ;)**

 **NEXT** **CHAPTER:** As Buffy delves into resources that hopefully may send her back home, Dean catches wind of a case in a Utah. Buffy, unable to ignore her slayer drive, comes with the two brothers. One hunt, two hunters, and a slayer ... and with it two very different methods and styles in killing monsters. What could possibly go wrong?

 _ **Thanks for the 11 favorites, 20 follows, and 10 reviews! :)**_


	4. Chapter 4: Three's Company

**A/N:** I'm back, and with the next chapter. I hope you all had a happy holidays. :) Last chapter was one of my rare short ones, but this one's back up to regular length so hopefully it's already better. xD This one's going to involve a hunt. I think what was most fun about this chapter was, again, comparing/contrasting through writing the reactions of the characters. While Buffy and Supernatural have a lot in common, they're also really different—and this is one of those chapters where that really shows.

Last we left off with Sam, Dean, and Buffy kinda sorta working together ... so let's see how that goes. ;)

 **Disclaimer: The rights of the character all the belong to the magnificent minds of Joss Whedon and Eric Kripke. All I get out of any of this is fun.**

* * *

 _Three's Company_

~~Buffy~~

"Everything is here." Sam gestured with his arm towards the wide expanse of library. Bookshelves and at least a couple tables were all that could be in sight. "Mythology, demonology, private records ... it's got it all. Let me tell you. If you wanna brush up on a way back to an alternate universe, then this is the right place."

Buffy's brow was furrowed, eying the stacks of books with tentative discomfort. She picked up a few. " _Essence of Soul_ , _The Demon Files_ , _Phoenix and Ashes_ ..." The blonde slayer read off titles, looking at each book in turn. "You seriously have a Supernatural Public Library?" She said in disbelief.

" _Secret_ , technically. Or at least it was. It belonged to the Men of the Letters, a secret society. They were wiped out a long time ago, but all their knowledge they accumulated over the centuries was put here. Something to do with understanding the supernatural and unlock mysteries." Sam explained. He smiled slightly. "They were pretty amazing."

 _Sound boring to me._ The blonde thought with a deeper frown, catching the awe in Sam's eyes. They sounded like a bunch of librarians. Librarians equal boring. Smart but boring (and yes, Giles had been a librarian in Sunnydale and she _loved_ him ... but it didn't change the fact he was still boring). She didn't really see the appeal.

"So they're like a _really_ , really warped _Dead Poets Society_." Buffy summed up lightly, a dry smile on her face.

Sam looked amused. "... Close enough." He replied with a smile, shrugging. "They were behind the scenes guys. Back in their day, they would feed information to a few good hunters. The ones they trusted. Sometimes they'd even send them on out on hunts." The brown-haired went on, back to the topic again.

The blonde slayer's attention was drawn at this. This was all sounding eerily familiar. "So they were like your _watchers_." She remarked matter-of-factly. She wasn't particularly impressed. She didn't have too many good experiences with those Watcher's Council-types.

" _Watchers_?" Sam repeated, frowning.

"My world thing. It's nothing." Buffy brushed off with a little frown, shrugging her shoulders. She refocused on the books, grabbing other books she hadn't looked at and reading the titles. "Thanks for the encyclopedia, but how'd you find this place? You just stumbled on a secret passageway and then _viola_ , Nerddom?" She questioned, glancing at Sam skeptically.

"Family heirloom." Sam began with ease. "Our grandfather was one of them. When he died, it all passed over to us. I guess you could call us legacies." He went on, nodding. "Me and Dean actually only just found about all this. We moved in here, like, not even a month ago."

Buffy was surprised. Neither Sam or his brother really seemed like watcher-types, like the Men of Letters obviously were. Well, maybe Sam did, but that was just based on first impression. She surveyed the inside of the bunker thoughtfully. "It's all pretty snazzy." She complimented, seeing the place in a new light.

Maybe some part of her still thought this was a dream world, but whatever was going on she was doing what she had to. She rested well here in their spare room. Too well, if Buffy was honest. She had slept for at least thirty hours straight which for her was a personal record. You could imagine how she felt waking up. Definitely a little more than pissed, but at least she wasn't tired anymore.

After that, things had gotten a little better. She managed to buy a new outfit and _finally_ get a change of clothes, not to mention a shower (which had amazing shower pressure). Buffy also had the brothers, illusion or otherwise. Sam was nice. Dean avoided her. But whatever.

"So ... do you actually know if they had anything on alternate universes?" Buffy asked, a little uncertain despite herself.

"I don't know. There's a _lot_ in this place we still haven't looked at." The brown-haired hunter admitted apologetically, shaking his head. "Not to mention, with all these books and files they have, who knows where to even _start_."

 _Thanks, Sam. I really needed to hear that today._ Buffy thought, bitterly sarcastic. "Nowhere to start, huh?" The small blonde replied with a grimace, flipping over one of the books she was holding. "You couldn't have found a _Guide to Alternate Dimensions_ and saved me all the studying?" She muttered only half-jokingly, frowning in dislike.

Sam scoffed, looking at her amusedly. "I'll help. We'll leaf through it." The brown-haired hunter told her reassuringly, his hands on his hips as he overlooked the library.

Buffy set the books down. "Thanks." She mumbled, still frowning as she looked back up at the bookshelves.

The blonde slayer maneuvered herself around the table, walking towards one of the bookshelves slowly and pulling out the first one she saw. Dust flew out towards her face. Buffy scowled slightly, swatting it away until it cleared. The book was a hardcover, titled _Secrets of the Supernatural_.

The blonde slayer opened up the book, her eyes skimming the first opened pages. "Time to get cracking, I guess." She remarked somewhat reluctantly, not too enthusiastic. She couldn't help it. There was too many books and not enough time. Not to mention it wasn't exactly her area of expertise.

 _Where's_ _Giles when you need him?_ Buffy thought in a grumble, regarding the book distastefully as she began flipping through the pages.

With the help of Sam, several of the books and file records left the shelves. Stacks surrounded them as they went to work. Time passed. Minutes felt like hours to Buffy as her and the hunter rifled through the information. It was easy enough to separate the useless from the ones with potential, but what was not so easy was dealing with the high difference between the "no" pile and the "yes" pile.

It was almost interesting, sure. The wealth of knowledge and wide variety of topics the Men of Letters covered probably would normally arouse at least a speck of her curiosity only because it was all so different. That is, if Buffy didn't have her alarm system on full blast for incoming apocalypse and was nowhere near where she needed to be. This all could've been very educational.

After four hours and too many dead end books in, the slayer had had it. "How could these guys have everything and absolutely _nothing_?" Buffy said impatiently, slamming a book closed in frustration.

Sam, who had been deeply buried in one of the books, glanced at her. "We'll keep trying. But you aren't gonna find anything just like that, even here. There's a lot to go through." He told her, giving her a meaningful look. "We just need to dig deeper."

Buffy was taut with tension. _I don't have time for this._ Okay, so maybe she wasn't Research Girl or a particularly patient kind of person. Inaction was still unacceptable. Every second she spent here was another second she wasn't back there. If her friends and family were in trouble— _apocalyptic_ trouble—she was literally doing nothing to help them.

Buffy wanted to argue and say just that to Sam. As she stared at Sam's focused expression and watched his thorough bookwork, however, the words died on her tongue. He was right. She knew that. Complaining would accomplish nothing except making her more angry.

With a sigh and a little scowl, Buffy pulled another stack of books toward her and grabbed the top one. She flipped through it jerkily, agitated. Then she reminded herself all the reasons she had to keep her cool and maybe even appreciate Sam a little more. He'd been with her through all this studying, pitching in and handing her any helpful books. The least she could do was try to be as patient as him.

So Buffy looked at it, read the title, then put it in the "no" pile. The next book was more promising. It was called _Mysteries of the World,_ thick, and rich with info so she checked the table of contents and started reading. Sam was back at the bookshelves, frowning thoughtfully as he read off the titles on the book's spines.

Eventually, through all the pages and the frustration, at last one certain chapter in the _Mysteries of the World_ stuck out. Skimming and eventually skipping a few paragraphs having to do with the Bermuda Triangle, Buffy's eyes finally rested on the only promising thing she found since she got here.

' _In the process of Earth's evolution, it's thought something in it mutated and conceived a whole other reality. How many remains undecided, though in the 13th century it's was speculated through disruptions and natural disasters running rampant that—'_

"You know, I'm starting to think you're right." Sam's voice broke through her reading concentration. He walked away from the bookshelf and back towards Buffy, a troubled frown on his face. "We've looked through practically everything. Maybe they don't have the answers." He admitted reluctantly.

The blonde slayer didn't take her eyes off the book. "Might have found _one_." She replied pointedly, continuing her reading with renewed determination. This was the first book she had ever found that was even _acknowledging_ the existence of an alternate world.

Sam's attention was caught. He sat down on the chair beside her, leaning into her as he tried to get a glimpse of what she was reading. "You found something?" He asked, his green eyes flicking between her and the book intently.

"Alternate universes ... they knew about it." Buffy told Sam, glancing at him meaningfully. She turned back towards the book, narrowing her eyes. " 'Disruptions in the void possibly connected to different universes' ... connected _how_?" The blonde slayer went on, breaking off her reading as she turned another page.

"So you got a direction. That's good." Sam said, nodding. After a moment, he was back on his feet. "I got a couple things I need to take care of. Just keep looking. Tell me if you find anything else." The brown-haired hunter informed her, moving back from the chair.

"Uh-huh." Buffy answered distractedly, not really listening. Realizing what Sam said, she snapped out of it. "Oh, uh, yeah. Thanks for helping me." The slayer told him more genuinely, actually looking at him this time.

Sam nodded again, then turned and left. When he was gone, Buffy turned her attention back to the book, her brow furrowed in concentration as she read off more of the passages. It started to detail a series of specific natural disasters occurring during 1240 A.D. Art in abandoned civilizations were filled with portrayals of thunderstorms, and earthquakes next to black 'voids'. The death toll was especially outstanding back then, which added to signs of a "new world."

 _Thanks for the history lesson, Men of Letters ... but I'm trying to find a way_ out _of here, not make a PowerPoint._ Buffy thought, discontented again. She didn't need any "indications of a alternate world". Hello! She was prove enough of that. _Where are the answers?_ The small slayer asked herself, flipping through the pages.

Her frustration on the brink of returning, the blonde slayer went through the excerpts with renewed fervor. The rest of the chapter covered nothing on travelling to different universes, going back to a universe, or even being transported to one. Buffy moved on and tried to investigate other parts, thinking maybe it was just in a different chapter. Before she knew it, she read the book all the way through and no such luck.

Dismay and complete aggravation marred the blonde slayer. _Really? I_ finally _get a mention and nothing?_ Buffy reflected incredulously. Defiance erupted inside her. No. Buffy Summers was _not_ going to accept that. There had to be more somewhere in here. Maybe she missed it. It could just be in the small print. She wasn't going to give up.

The minutes clocked by. The slayer went through the book once more, re-reading chapters and excerpts. She didn't know how many times she re-read this book over and over. Buffy's dismay skyrocketed. Was there really nothing more in this book? Between her and Sam, they had went through nearly _everything_ here!

Frustration swept Buffy away in a raging river. The blonde slayer stood up, the book opened up. Her eyes flitted desperately, angrily even over the pages as she kept searching. Too agitated to stay in place, Buffy started to wander. She only just barely paid attention to her surroundings, her gaze still fixed on this damn book.

As the slayer jerkily flipped through pages, her feet carried her to the study. The small blonde raised her head, expression still screwed in frustration, just to make sure she wasn't running into anything. The first things she saw was Dean, sitting alone at the table.

Buffy stopped suddenly, surprised. When her and Sam started researching, Dean hadn't been out here.

He was on his laptop, surfing. The slayer was about to leave him be and just continue on her way, but then she caught the serious and concentrated look on Dean's face. It didn't appear that he even noticed she was standing here. He just seemed very absorbed into whatever he was doing.

Unbidden curiosity arose in Buffy. She closed the book, her frustration mostly forgotten as she started walking over. Dean finally realized she was there. The hunter became tense, watching her approach him with a look that was neither friendly nor completely hostile.

" ... I thought Sam was keeping you busy." He said grumpily.

The reaction didn't surprise Buffy. Unlike Sam, who had taken the time to talk to her and be her little helper, his brother only helped when prodded and took much more naturally to staying out of her "predicament." Dean seemed determined to want nothing to do with her. Sam's proactive methods must've made that all _so_ much easier for him.

"I just wanted to see your face one more time." Buffy countered mockingly. Dean gave her an unamused look. The blonde slayer was just as unimpressed. "I _was_ busy. Then things don't go according to plan and you get that nasty bug called _un_ -busy. It's a thing." She replied sharply, irritated.

Dean's hard look softened by a fraction. He paused. " ... Research not going too good?" He finally asked, just a little awkward.

And _just_ like that, her frustration returned. "No. Thanks for asking." The blonde slayer answered bitterly. Rolling her eyes, she set the book down on the table and sat in the chair in front of him. She let out an annoyed breath. "All I found was a _mention_ of alternate universes and the rest ... nothing. No express out. Just a lot of stuff sounding like they should be on _BBC_."

The hunter didn't even blink. "I figured. You weren't going to find anything like that in a damn book."

Buffy stared at him. "You couldn't have told me that _before_ all the studying?" The slayer said flatly. Dean just shrugged. The blonde slayer shook her head. "It's just all so ... okay. I'm Action Girl. Not Bury-My-Nose-In-a-Book-and-Hope-I-Find-Something Girl." She remarked with feeling.

Dean nodded. "I hear that. Leave all that boring, bookworm-y crap to the nerds."

His attention started to drift back towards the computer, reading something off it. After a moment, his eyes narrowed slightly. Buffy registered this with that same morbid curiosity she had from before. "So what's with the dire?" She asked casually. Dean looked back at her, confused. She clarified. "Your busy face."

"Just, uh, looking for a case." He told her a bit awkwardly, flicking his eyes between her and the laptop. Buffy stared at him blankly. Noticing, he rephrased. "Monster-hunting." Dean simplified, giving her a meaningful look.

Interest ignited in Buffy. Now _that_ was something in her comfort zone. "Well. Did you find anything?" She prompted.

Dean seemed surprised, but when he glanced back down at his laptop he was all business again. "There was, uh, a murder in Bicknell, Utah by some guy named Daniel Whitgrove. Except he was with a group of friends that night and there was plenty of witnesses." The hunter described pointedly. "I bet my money on shifter."

"Shifter?" Buffy repeated, not familiar with the term. She remembered that was one of the monsters Dean drilled her on a couple days ago, but she hadn't known what it was.

"A shapeshifter. They look human, but change form. Can look like anybody." The hunter informed her, gesturing with his hand. "If a thing like that is lurking around in Bicknell, then this guy probably got framed."

"Uh-huh." Buffy responded, giving him a look at the completely clinical and professional tone in Dean's voice. "So this is what you do? Surf the net, anything with the slightest hint of weird and you drive out on a monster hunt, guns a-blazing?" The blonde slayer summed up, not used to that kind of slaying method.

"Welcome to my world." Dean said with feeling, his eyes on the article. "I better go tell Sam about this. After that, we're gonna be heading out. " The hunter declared, getting out of the chair.

Buffy turned around, her arm on the back of the chair. "And you don't have any blue-collar _job_ to go to?" The blonde slayer couldn't help but say as he began walking away, giving him a pointed look.

Dean stopped and looked back at her. "Oh, sweetheart. This _is_ my job." He responded in pure seriousness, his expression meaningful. Holding her a stare only a second longer, he walked out of the study.

 _Hmm ... I know the feeling._ Buffy thought as she watched Dean leave, her expression thoughtful. That explained a lot. If she had to make a guess, Sam was probably in the same boat: no job but slaying. They weren't that different from her then. Ever since she formed the Slayer Organization, the only "job" she had was being a slayer general and that wasn't really any job that would be fly well on any resume.

The blonde slayer glanced back at Dean's laptop, still opened up. Unable to resist her slayer curiosity, Buffy rose from the chair and maneuvered herself so she could sit at the computer. The article Dean had been looking at was still in clear view, detailing a murder of a girl named Tamara Smitherson.

 _Yep. Definitely looks like something up my alley._ Buffy thought with certainty as she started reading, nodding her head. Not just one person had seen him at a club during the murder, but several and not all of them were even the suspect's friends. She could see where Dean got the "Doppelgangland" theory.

Ten minutes later, the sound of footsteps alerted Buffy. Sam and Dean, each carrying duffel bags over their shoulder, were hustling down the stairs towards her. Her eyes widened slightly. The blonde slayer quickly stood up, stepping discreetly away from the laptop and trying to act casual. She hadn't just been on it. Nope.

"Hey. Uh, listen, Buffy." Sam addressed as they stopped in front of her. "Dean and I are gonna be gone a couple days. You'll have to keep hitting the research without us." The brown-haired hunter explained. He looked at her a little apologetically. "Sorry about all this, but—"

"You're on your own. We gotta a job to do." Dean interrupted.

Buffy was not at all fazed. "A monster thingy to be squished in Utah ... Not one to stand in the way of _that_." The blonde slayer said nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders.

"Awesome. Have fun getting your _Nancy Drew_ on." Dean answered in crystal clear disinterest. After a second, his expression became more meaningful. "And no wild parties." He warned firmly, pointing at her. The slayer just rolled her eyes.

"If you need anything, just call." Sam told her earnestly, then turned and headed to the staircase.

" _Don't_ call us unless it's an emergency." Dean said sternly, hovering just to tell her that before following his brother.

"Appreciate the morale." Buffy responded flatly, not impressed. She immediately began following them. "Can I come?" She asked casually.

Sam and Dean halted, both turning to look at her. They paused, holding bewildered expressions.

"What?" Dean exclaimed.

The blonde slayer regarded them innocently. "You know. Monster. Killing. Kind of my forte."

Dean looked bitingly skeptical. Even Sam was a little incredulous.

"You want to come. With _us_. On a hunt." Sam reiterated in disbelief.

"I was gonna go with _'slaying'_ , but sure, hunt works too." The blonde slayer answered flippantly, throwing out her arm. Realizing Sam and Dean were legitimately surprised by her request, exasperation pricked Buffy. " _Hello?_ Professional monster slayer myself here! Evil nasties? Not a stranger." She reminded them impatiently.

"Weren't you still researching?" Sam questioned, frowning.

The slayer nearly scowled. God, did she hate that reminder _so much_. "Hit a wall ... or three. At least this way, I can work off a little frustration." Buffy replied stiffly, certain her repressed anger was showing in her eyes.

"What about that one book? The one that mentioned alternate universes?" The brown-haired hunter pressed.

"Turned out to be dud. Can I please just kill something?" The blonde slayer said with an edge, growing more annoyed. She _so_ did not want to think about the dead end she was at on going back to her world. It just made her want to hit something. Her best outlet was a murderous monster.

She still wasn't winning them over. "Aren't you supposed to be focused on going home?" Dean brought up pointedly, throwing out his arm with a dubious expression.

"I _am!_ But the resources here aren't helping and I need to do _something_." Buffy answered with an edge, still trying to control her frustration. "I know I'm practically from Mars here, but killing monsters, saving people ... that's what I do too. No matter where I am, I still need to do my job."

Sam and Dean's confusion faded, but they still looked a little doubtful. Buffy remained resolute. The brothers exchanged a dubious look. Dean finally rolled his eyes. " ... Fine, _fine_. You can be Hunter Barbie." He relented reluctantly. "But you play by _our_ rules, alright? _We_ take the lead."

For once, the domineering, bossy tone didn't annoy Buffy. She shook her head. "Your world, your oyster." The blonde slayer acknowledged coolly, her arms crossed and giving a small shrug of her shoulders.

"Well. If you're gonna hunt with us ... then you need to know what you're hunting." Sam began seriously. "Shapeshifter. They're strong, fast, smart, and can turn into practically anyone. They look just like us so it's not always easy to track them. But when they shift, they leave behind skin. Like literally, shed skin. That way you at least you know they were there."

Buffy nodded to prove she was listening. Dean took over from there. "And to kill those sons of bitches ..." He took out his duffel bag and set it on the table, zipping it open. Shell casings, bullets, knives, and assorted guns all of different lengths greeted her. Dean rummaged, pulling out a gun and a couple bullets. "Silver, right to the heart." He told her matter-of-factly, flipping one of the bullets in his hand before re-loading the gun.

The blonde slayer had a frown coming on. She nodded quickly. "Silver. Gotcha." She responded in forced flippancy, feeling just a little alienated watching Dean load a gun. It only got worse when Sam echoed his brother, opening his bag and checking his weapons—also filled with bullets, different types of guns, and less knives.

Okay, so this wasn't that surprising. Humans used guns all the time. It was just strange to her seeing it crisscrossing with the slaying world. Slayers like her didn't use guns. None of her friends did. It was usually just old-fashioned axes, swords, and whatever other pointy object they could ram into the monsters.

A pang of nostalgia hit Buffy. She missed her scythe. She had managed to talk the brothers into driving her back at the motel she was staying at to retrieve her duffel bag where she had kept it. It had been still there thankfully and a maid hadn't touched it. Now it was in her spare room here. She suddenly itched to use it, but it wasn't exactly silver.

Still ... staring at a bunch of guns and bullets used by these hunters definitely wasn't helping. _To each their own, I guess ... but it's just not my cup of tea._ Buffy couldn't help but think uncomfortably, trying to shrug it off.

Letting out a breath, the blonde slayer stepped forward to chose a weapon. Not even glancing at her, Dean immediately handed out a gun. Buffy just stared at it, reluctance flowing over her. When he realized she wasn't taking it, he finally turned and prompted with a pointedly impatient look.

"Pass. I'm happy with silver knife." The blonde slayer denied, making a face at gun.

Dean was dubious. "You're choosing a knife over a gun?"

"Yep." Buffy answered flippantly, returning her attention back to the duffel bags for a knife. Taken notice of Sam and Dean's baffled expressions, she figured she had to clear it up for them. "I don't use guns." She told them frankly.

Dean lowered his hand with the gun and pulled away from her, disbelief written across his face.

Sam scoffed. "Really?"

" _Uh-huh_." The blonde slayer replied cheerily, her eyes focused on the duffel bag as she fished inside.

"Never?" Dean prompted.

"Nope. Not my style." Buffy reiterated still casually, smirking just a bit as she relished the brothers' dumbfounded looks before looking down at the bags again as she went through them. She had to paw away a lot of the guns to get the knives, also being different types and having a good length which was the one thing in them that made her happy.

"Well ... _we_ use guns." Dean remarked meaningfully.

Buffy didn't look up. "Mazel tov. Are all of these knives silver?" She responded distractedly, pulling out two gleaming knifes and studying them with a critical frown.

Beginnings of a scowl touched Dean's face. "You can't bring a knife to a gunfight or we might accidentally shoot you!" The hunter snapped. Buffy put one of the knives away, running her finger along the sharpness of the blade to measure it. "What's gonna stop you from coming back a human bullet hole?" He challenged.

Satisfied with the knife's sharpness, the slayer finally looked at Dean. She paused, regarding him with innocent expression. " ... Learn to aim." Buffy replied simply, her lips quirking slightly.

Dean stared, visibly taken aback. Sam had his head bent, a chuckle escaping even though he clearly tried to suppress it. Just as Dean finally snapped out of his startled state enough to be outraged, Buffy patted his chest in mock encouragement before turning and walking off with the knife.

Dean stared after Buffy speechlessly, incredulity lined in every muscle on his face.

"Are you coming?" The blonde slayer prompted when she reached the staircase, glancing back at the brothers pointedly. She flipped her silver knife in her hand and climbing up the stairs.

Dean scoffed and shook his head. Finally noticing his brother's amused expression, the older hunter scowled bitterly. "Shut up." He grumbled, zipping up his duffel bag and throwing it over his shoulder in jerky movements as he stormed after Buffy. Sam just shook his head, laughing as he followed.

* * *

~~Dean~~

Dean emerged out of a motel room, making his way through the upper hallway and hustling down the stairs outside. The Impala was parked just across and as he expected, Sam and Buffy were both standing by it waiting for him. The hunter crossed the parking lot and strode towards them, putting his wallet into his pocket.

"Alright. We should be checked in. Just had to tie up a couple loose ends." Dean told Sam and Buffy, stopping in front of them.

"So. We're here. In Bicknell. Shouldn't we get started on that shifter thingy?" Buffy brought up, glancing at the two brothers. She seemed particularly wired. During the long, thirteen-hour drive from Kansas to Utah, the female hunter's restlessness and sense of boredom had been a constant. Dean quickly came to the conclusion she just wasn't that used to long car drives.

Sam nodded. "We should probably start talking to the families. See if they noticed anything, like if he was acting different or have any proof he's innocent." His younger brother suggested.

"Well, we got the witnesses for that. A bunch of them saw him at a club." Dean responded. "We need to get access to their security cameras. Check for any retinal flares."

Buffy blinked, confused. "Retinal ...?"

"Shifters eyes light up when they're caught on camera. It helps tell difference between them and us." Sam informed.

The blonde nodded. "They might've scrapped the cameras then. They already think he's guilty. They're just gonna see the camera footage as a glitch or something." Buffy mentioned seriously. "It's probably in some private storage. We'll have to dig deeper to get it."

"Good thing we're here." Dean replied pointedly, not fazed. He was almost funny how much this woman was overthinking everything. All he and Sam had to do was go in as FBI agents. Wham, bam, unlimited security camera access. Problem solved.

The blonde hunter frowned thoughtfully. "I was thinking of looking around the neighborhood. Maybe find a molt trail. That'll lead us to it."

Or maybe this woman didn't think enough. "You kidding? That'll take _days._ " Dean said incredulously.

"I can do it." Buffy offered casually.

Dean stared at her critically. She looked so undaunted, like all of this was nothing to her. He couldn't tell if she was just really that cocky or what the little suspicious voice in his head kept whispering: she was just stating facts. It _was_ nothing to her. Because she wasn't human.

"By _yourself_?" Sam said, skeptical.

Buffy shrugged. "Well, if we're gonna be visiting the neighborhood, _someone_ should look. It's leaving an ick trail right for us." The small blonde stated simply, expression meaningful.

"And of course it's got to be _you_ doing volunteer work." Dean said with an edge, suspicious.

Sensing his distrust, the blonde hunter let out an annoyed breath. "I'm just trying to help, okay? We need to find this thing." Buffy replied defensively.

Dean studied her. He felt like he was constantly judging the blonde's sincerity. These past couple days, he never seemed to wrestle his feelings enough to fully trust Buffy or even _dis_ trust her. It was like a never-ending, annoying limbo he was very tired of being in. He wanted to outright demand what she was, but Dean couldn't just accuse her. At least not yet.

"We will find it, and we'll look." Sam reassured. "But Dean's right. It'd take too long doing a whole sweep. We're better off just starting with the witnesses and the families."

Buffy stared at the brothers, a strange look on her face.

"Hey. Our world, our calls, remember? You aren't in charge of this hunt." Dean said in a tone meant for no arguments.

The blonde hunter paused, then nodded slowly. " ... Okay. So where do we start?" She prompted, looking attentive.

Glad she was at least _trying_ to cooperate with them, Dean pushed his skepticism to the side. "The families, the witnesses, and that Daniel Whitgrove guy. We gotta make sure everything adds up to shifter." He declared.

The blonde nodded. " 'Kay. Let's go." She said casually, already trying to get inside the car.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on." Sam stopped her, grabbing Buffy's shoulders and steering her back to them. The blonde stared up at him, confused. "We can't just go and _talk_ to them." His brother told her as he held her shoulders, his expression meaningful.

Buffy frowned. "Why not?"

Dean couldn't believe that was even a question. "Oh, I don't know. Get put in a rubber room. Maybe get arrested. Or both." The older Winchester described in mock nonchalance, ending it with a pointed look. At the female hunter's still puzzled look, annoyance welled in Dean. "We're _hunting_! Hunting equals incognito. We can't just mosey our way on through." He clarified impatiently, gesturing with his arms.

The blonde's expression cleared. "Oh, you mean undercover." She realized. Dean gave a confirming tilt of his head, exasperated. Buffy paused, frowning thoughtfully. "I don't really get it. Can't you just ask questions and break into the club's security surveillance?"

 _Are you kidding me?_ Dean thought in disbelief. The blonde hunter looked completely uncomprehending. "No. See, there's that pesky little detail called _'don't screw up your case_.' " He answered sharply as gestured with his hand, unable to keep out the sarcasm.

Sam nodded. "He's right. Me and Dean ... we have to do all our hunts undercover. If you're gonna do it, you gotta do it right." His younger brother said seriously.

Buffy was still frowning. Finally she shook her head. "Yeah, I don't do it like that. I mean, I _have_ but ... just once in a blue moon. Most of the time it's just walking through the fire." The blonde admitted.

 _And that works?_ Dean felt he had that thought a million times ever since Buffy's life back at home started coming in the open. Every case he and his brother ever had _depended_ on subtlety. How did she get anything done? How did Buffy even save _anyone_ , having methods like that?

"Got a feeling that's bad for business." The older Winchester deadpanned.

Buffy smiled sarcastically. "Only to my social life." She responded glibly. Dean smiled despite himself. "So the undercover dealio ... undercover _how_?" The blonde questioned, back to her skepticism.

Sam and Dean glanced at each other, then reached in their jackets and pulled out their badges. Buffy stared, her eyes widening. " _FBI_ agents?" She said incredulously. She looked back up at them, unimpressed. "You're not FBI agents." She stated matter-of-factly.

"No, we're not." Sam acknowledged quickly, putting the badge back into his jacket.

"Gets the job done though." Dean said nonchalantly, putting his away also.

Buffy still looked heavily disbelieving. "You impersonate _FBI agents_."

"Yep. And if you're paling around us, now you do too." Dean told her straightforwardly, not even hesitating.

The blonde hunter was startled. " _What?"_

Sam shook his head. "It's the only way to get close. If you're going to hunt with us, then you need to do it our way."

"We're gonna have to get you a fake badge and a change of clothes." Dean said matter-of-factly, looking her up and down.

Buffy looked horrified. "This is a new outfit!" She said incredulously, gesturing to her body with her arm. She wore a long-sleeved, loose-fitting, striped sideways top made of thick bands of purple and gray along with a darker set of jeans and light brown boots—the _only_ outfit she had right now other than the one she came in.

Sam looked amused. Dean was exasperated. He rolled his eyes. "You're going on a hunt, not to _Miss_ _America_ auditions." He grumbled. Hunter or not, Buffy was very clearly still a girl.

"That is no excuse not to look good." Buffy justified meaningfully.

 _Well, for you, I don't think that's ever really a problem._ Dean thought in all seriousness, just barely keeping the impulse to say it out loud in check. He had to be honest. She looked good. Even when she looked like crap she looked good and he knew that from experience because that's how she looked when he met her.

Catching where his thoughts were heading, Dean stopped them before he went too deep. "Look, this is how we do it, okay? Now this is _our_ universe. You're the one riding shotgun here, not us." He told her with a hard look.

"You're _never_ gonna stop reminding me of that, are you?" Buffy grumbled.

"You ever gonna stop complaining?" Dean shot back.

Buffy looked annoyed with him, but her only comeback was a roll of her eyes as she looked away.

Dean shook his head, wishing she'd just simmer down and know her place. Buffy just wasn't easy to work with. She questioned everything he and Sam did and if she didn't like it, she'd try to make them do _it_ her way. She had guts sure and he liked guts, but to be honest it also annoyed Dean a little. It was like she couldn't just _not_ be in charge.

Sam was dealing with this much more patiently. God, did Dean envy him. "I know this isn't exactly ethical ..." His younger brother acknowledged uncomfortably.

"Hey. Not my first felony." Buffy answered with feeling, throwing out her hands. "You want me to act out _Without A Trace_ , I'll act out _Without A Trace_. If it means getting the shifter ... " She trailed off, throwing out her arm with a resigned expression.

Dean finally relaxed a bit, satisfied she wasn't arguing anymore. He exchanged a glance at Sam, then nodded at Buffy. " ... Alright. We got work to do." He told them seriously, heading for the Impala's driver's seat.

 _ **####**_

Dean was sitting in a chair in a row of chairs, a dressing room in front of him. Racks of clothes and several people milling back and forth behind him through the hallways surrounded him. He was in his FBI clothes and in his hands was a picture of Buffy already sporting personal FBI information, which he was just performing the finishing touches on.

The hunter paused in his task, briefly looking to check his phone. He hadn't gotten anymore texts from Sam, who was currently with the coroner checking the autopsy. Dean had every rhyme and reason to be with his brother this very second instead of sitting in a shop bored out of his skull and waiting for a picky female to just chose an FBI outfit already. Dean _would've_ been with his brother too, if it wasn't for the fact he needed to make sure Buffy didn't weasel her way out of impersonating FBI and she needed a fake badge anyway so ... hours later here he was.

Finally satisfied with the authenticity of the badge, Dean looked back at the dressing room. She still hadn't emerged.

Impatience sparked in the Winchester. He wished she would just hurry up. "Shopping" with Buffy earlier had been complete hell. She just needed to "look FBI" which wasn't even that complicated except she hated every outfit she saw. She didn't get undercover and just wanted to wear her cute, girly outfits. It was ridiculous.

God, did he wish he was Sam right now. He wanted to work, not sit out here waiting on this chick like he was her friggin' boyfriend.

Finally the dressing room door was pulled open and Buffy stomped out, a heavily irritated look on her face. Her blonde hair was still down, but now she was dressed in a simple white blouse with black jeans, black shoes, and a long dark brown duster jacket flowing out behind her. Definite FBI profile.

"I look like a _librarian_." The blonde grumbled immediately, scowling.

Dean didn't see why she was complaining. He couldn't help the appreciative once-over he gave Buffy, noticing how the blouse and tight jeans perfectly accentuated her curves, breasts, and lithe, slender body. He decided then he had been right. No matter what outfit this girl wore, she would still look hot in it.

" _My_ kind of librarian." Dean said with feeling, still looking her over. That time he couldn't help it. She just looked really attractive.

Buffy faltered, looking surprised. She recovered quick enough though, her expression turning stern. "Flattery will not turn this outfit into _Prada_." The blonde hunter told him meaningfully.

Dean smirked slightly, amused. If only she could take the compliment. The Winchester stood up and handed her the badge. "Congratulations. You're now FBI." He deadpanned.

"Oh, goodie. Just what I always dreamed." Buffy responded lightly, taking the badge and looking at it. "Special Agent Buffy Summers ... you used my real name?" The blonde reacted as she read it off, looking up at him with a worried frown.

Dean shrugged. "Hey, you're an alien here. Not on any personal records. You can get away with it."

Buffy frowned deeper, then shook her head. "Never thought I'd hear _that_ one." She muttered, mostly to herself.

Dean quirked a curious brow at her, amused by the reaction. Adding that with her felony remark earlier, he got the feeling Buffy had been in quite a few brushes with the law back at home while hunting herself. Just then, his phone started ringing.

"Sam?" He questioned immediately as he answered, the phone to his ear.

 _"Hey. So I just came back from that autopsy."_ Sam's voice began. _"The vic was stabbed multiple times in her stomach and chest. She bled out. Pretty normal way to go."_ His younger brother described.

Dean frowned slightly. "And by normal you mean ...?" He prompted pointedly, trailing off as he gestured with his arm.

 _"Normal_ weapon _. She had bruises over her arms, around her face. Pretty bad."_ Sam summed up casually.

"That's what I thought." Dean answered, just as unfazed. Shapeshifters were stronger than humans, but they usually killed using human weapons so this made sense.

 _"The murder weapon was left at the scene. It was covered in Daniel Whitgrove's DNA. Her boyfriend."_ The brown-haired hunter elaborated pointedly.

"The boy toy caught on camera getting his party on." Dean remarked matter-of-factly, nodding as it all came together. "Looks like we really are dealing with a shifter."

 _"Looks like. We still need to make sure everything else lines up though. We gotta start asking around."_ Sam said thoughtfully. " _I'm gonna go to that club to check the camera surveillance. We'll see if Roger Rabbit really got framed."_ He declared.

Dean nodded. "Then Buffy and I will go pay a visit to Daniel. Meet us in the middle."

 _"Right. See you then."_ Sam agreed, then the phone hung up with a click.

Dean hung up, glancing over at Buffy. The blonde hunter had been watching the conversation intently. "Sam's checking the club surveillance to see if Daniel's got an alibi. We're gonna go talk to him in jail." He informed, putting his phone back into his jacket pocket.

Buffy's eyes widened. "You mean we're just walking _right_ into the police department?"

"Why we got the outfits." The Winchester replied nonchalantly, shrugging.

The blonde hunter looked uneasy. "Right. _Mulder_ and _Scullying_ it. Um, what if we get caught?"

Dean stared at her incredulously. "What do I look like to you?" He prompted as he threw out his hands, offended.

" _Well,_ let's answer _that_ question. For _starters_ ..." Buffy began glibly.

" _Hey_! I'm an _expert_. I've been riding out this rollercoaster for years so lay off the sass." Dean cut her off as he pointed at her, giving her a stern look. "We'll be fine." He assured, saying it as a fact. _Like I don't know how to do my damn job. Yeah, right._

The blonde hunter didn't look satisfied or even convinced, but she didn't raise any complaints and followed Dean as he started to leave the store. After a minute, Buffy glanced at him again. "Did I mention the fact I'm not exactly Undercover Girl?" She mentioned doubtfully, slowing as they walked.

Dean rolled his eyes and put his hand on her back, pushing her to go faster. "Alright. Keep going, _Veronica Mars_." He grumbled.

The two of them hauled into the Impala (Sam had "borrowed" a car, given the urgency to get on the case). The drive to BPD department lasted somewhere between twenty to thirty minutes and the entire way there he could literally _feel_ Buffy's tension. Not only was she not used to car drives, but she was also new to on the fly undercover—and at the moment she was his partner.

 _Well, this is gonna be a fun time._ Dean thought cynically as he drove, shaking his head.

Soon enough, the two of them reached the police department. Closing the car doors and locking it as he went, Dean walked up to the precinct with Buffy. Still feeling the rigid discomfort emanating from the blonde, he glanced at her. She looked uncertain, almost anxious.

"Relax. Just _be FBI_! Act natural." Dean whispered harshly as they walked up to the doors. If she kept walking around like a deer caught in the headlights, then she'd _really_ get them busted.

Buffy managed a terse nod just before they walked into the building. The department was bustling with activity. Police dressed in dark, navy-blue uniforms shuffled back and forth through desks, offices, and the back room. Others were clustered in groups, discussing. Several more were at the desks, which were loaded with files and paperwork. Hardly any of those ones raised their heads.

One of the cops, a tall, skinny, brown-haired man noticed them and walked over. "May I help you?" He asked, stopping in front of them.

Switching to his "FBI attitude" like turning on a light switch, Dean took out his badge. "Sir, I'm Special Agent Ward. This is Special Agent ..." The hunter broke off, instantly annoyed when he saw Buffy showing her badge upside down. She noticed immediately and wide-eyed, frantically adjusted it right-side up. "... Special Agent Summers." He finished resignedly as put away his badge, forcing himself to look back at the cop. "We're here about the Smitherson case."

The cop had been giving Buffy a weird look, but Dean caught his attention again. "Didn't know a small-town murder would draw in the bureau." He said in surprise.

"We're just doing our job." Dean replied coolly.

"Right. Right, absolutely." Buffy broke in meaningfully, nodding her head. "Leaving behind D.C., laying off all those donuts ... all to save the innocent, punish the guilty and salute the flag. Which is what we do. FBI. " The blonde hunter stated lamely. At the cop's unimpressed look, she got her badge again. "See my badge?" She offered weakly, giving a nervous smile.

Dean stood there rigidly, trying hard to keep his composure as exasperation welled up in his chest. _Yep, Buffy. Just keep rambling. That oughta not blow our cover._ The Winchester thought in bitter sarcasm. Even when he had been her age and just started posing as FBI, he had never been _that_ transparent.

"Aren't you a little young to be an FBI agent?" The cop asked Buffy skeptically, narrowing his eyes.

The blonde hunter laughed nervously. "Uh, no. No, I'm not really _that_ —"

 _Annd that's my cue._ Dean thought, detecting the danger zone. "Young, but smart. Graduated at the top of her class. High marks." The Winchester declared firmly, nodding. "Listen, uh, mind if we have a minute or two with Daniel Whitgrove? We need to ask him a few questions." He went back to topic quickly, serious.

The tall cop's gaze swept over the two of them warily, resting on Buffy more so, but after a second he shrugged. "Jail cell's in the back. I'll take you to him."

Dean nodded, waiting a moment or two for some distance. He glanced at Buffy irritably. "Laid it on there a little thick, don't you think?" He muttered pointedly as they started walking.

The female hunter glared at him. "When I get nervous, sometimes I don't speak English, okay?!" She snapped defensively.

Buffy and Dean followed the cop down the hallway in the back between a couple offices, leading towards a door the complete way down. He opened it and a large room spread out before them. A rack continuing multiple types of keys was on the far side, but the jail cell on the left was what caught his immediate attention. A man was inside, hunched over and sitting in a stone bench connected to the wall.

Dean sobered even more. He glanced back at the cop, still standing close the doorway. "Can we have a moment?"

The cop was already nodding, not needed to be told twice. The door slammed shut, leaving the two of them alone with the prisoner. Dean and Buffy exchanged tense glances, then walked up slowly towards the jail cell. "Are you Daniel Whitgrove?" The Winchester asked as they slowly walked up in front of him.

The man didn't even twitch. "Last I checked." He answered listlessly, his eyes staring at the floor.

Dean studied Daniel. He appeared to be in his twenties and was good-looking enough, dressed in a gold-and-white dress shirt with thin stripes and white pants. His short brown hair was shaggy and unbrushed, his bangs in his face and clinging to his sweaty head like the rest of his chair. His eyes were dark and haunted, even without directly looking at them.

 _He looks like hell._ Dean thought, feeling a prick of sympathy for poor guy. He didn't need an interrogation to know Daniel had been framed for murder, but had to do his job and be thorough.

"I'm Agent Ward. That's Agent Summers. We're FBI. And we gotta a few questions to ask you." The Winchester began seriously.

Daniel shook his head. "Look, I've already been through all of this with the police." The younger man said, a hint of exasperation to his very tired voice.

"Humor us." Buffy replied, her expression as serious as Dean's. Daniel finally looked up desolately. The blonde hunter paused, then continued. "Did you kill Tamara Smitherson?" She questioned carefully.

Daniel rose to his feet. "I never would've hurt Tamara!" He answered angrily, his hands grabbing the bars of the cell. "She was my girlfriend! I _loved_ her." He went on in passionate defiance. "I never would've ..." He broke off, shaking his head rapidly as grief surged over his face and his eyes watered.

Buffy's expression softened. Pity stirred in Dean himself. "You sure? I mean, you get into a lovers' spat, it gets a little intense, ends a little bloody. It happens." The hunter pressed nonchalantly, throwing out his hands. This whole thing screamed shifter, but he still needed a little more than that.

Daniel raised his head. "We got into fights. I mean, what couple doesn't? But I never wanted to kill her." The brown-haired man said in finality, his brown gaze defiant.

Buffy paused, seeming to be weighing something. " ... What about that knife at the scene? The one with your DNA written all over it? Did you lose it?" She asked levelly.

"I never saw that knife before in my life!" Daniel argued almost desperately. "I was with my _friends_ that night!" Frustration and grief battled against each other on the young man's face. "I know the cops keep saying it has my DNA or whatever ... but I swear, it _wasn't_ me. Whoever did that to Tam ... that _bastard_ should be in here, not me."

Dean was quiet, letting everything sink in as he eyed the distraught and angry young man critically. He had come here to make sure Daniel's alibi seemed genuine enough without any bearing on the shifter stuff ... and he was pretty sure he just got his answer.

The hunter nodded. "Thank you for your time." He said evenly. "We'll be back." He called over his shoulder as he turned around, walking towards the door.

Noticing Buffy wasn't with him, Dean stopped and glanced back. The blonde hunter had hovered by the jail cell, looking back at Daniel. "If it makes you feel any better ... I believe you." She told him earnestly.

 _Telling the guy in a jail cell in place full of cops and cameras you think he's innocent._ Very _FBI._ Dean thought dryly, knowing even more now her undercover methods needed work. Still, a little smile touched his face.

Buffy, with sympathy in her eyes, turned away from Daniel and finally followed the older hunter at the door. The two of them made there way through the police department, though they had to check in with that same cop as they went. This time Buffy wisely kept her mouth shut and let Dean do the talking. Getting out of there was a lot smoother after that.

"We _have_ to save Daniel." Buffy said immediately once they were out of the BPD building, her voice fervent.

Dean turned around to face her. "Well, with the being framed and the shifter stank all over it, that ain't gonna be easy." The Winchester remarked, just being honest.

"He's _innocent."_ The small blonde said adamantly.

 _Do I look like I'm arguing?_ Dean thought, a little offended. "Yeah, you're right. We saw him back there. Those weren't crocodile tears." He acknowledged. "But we'll worry about that mess later. We gotta nail that shifter. Who knows what that little freak is up to."

"You're right. But we still need to _find_ it." Buffy answered, looking at him meaningfully. The blonde hunter paused thoughtfully. " ... So if this thing doesn't kill to survive and has a thing for human murder weapons ... why _does_ it kill?"

"Basically every other reason out there. Money, revenge, bad sex, being pissed someone's got a better car than you, _whatever_." Dean summed up unorthodoxly, just a little impatient with her. Did it matter?

Buffy was staring at him intently. "So they kill the same reason people do. They have _feelings_." She stated matter-of-factly.

"They aren't people. They're _monsters_." The Winchester responded firmly, looking down at her with a hard stare.

" ... Sometimes people can be monsters too." Buffy murmured distantly. Before Dean could say anything, the small blonde regrouped. "But I'm not trying to Venn Diagram this, okay? I'm talking about _motive._ They feel all the icky, human feelings." She said, brisk once again.

Deciding to overlook that far away look in her eyes from before, the hunter thought on her words. Finally he shook his head. "Not the way I'd put it, but sure, knock yourself out." He responded, not really caring.

"So if they have feelings like that, then it probably _knew_ Tamara and Daniel." The blonde hunter reasoned with confidence. "That means it might know people in the neighborhood, right?" Buffy declared, looking at him pointedly.

"Bullseye." Dean confirmed with a slight nod, smiling in approval. "That's why we're checking into the blocks and looking into the friends and families. That shifter's gotta be right smack dap in the middle." He reached in his FBI jacket and started dialing Sam's number.

 _"Dean?"_ Sam's voice answered.

"Yeah, hey. We just saw Daniel. Guy's a mess. Not a inch of dirt on 'em. Arrow still points to shifter." The older Winchester told him, shaking his head. "How's things on your end?"

 _"Uh, about the same actually."_ Sam answered casually. _"I just tapped into the surveillance. Daniel Whitgrove and his friends were here, alright. Not a retinal flare anywhere. It was him."_ The brown-haired hunter informed him firmly. _"This guy's innocent, Dean."_ He declared, sympathy in his voice.

"Then we gotta find that son of bitch that isn't." Dean responded determinedly. "I figure we start looking into the families and friends and work our way in from there."

 _"Yeah. Given how Tamara's autopsy looked, it was personal. The shifter probably knew the victim."_ Sam agreed, obviously having come to the same conclusion as him and Buffy a while ago.

Dean nodded. "I'll pick you up. We'll head out."

 _"Alright."_

"So we're meeting up with Sam." Buffy said as soon as Dean hung up, having listened to everything. "Going to Tamara Smitherson's neighborhood, right?"

"Yep. Just gotta get Sam first." Dean replied, putting away his phone away back in his jacket.

Buffy nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe I might find that molt trail."

Aggravation pricked at Dean. "No. No, you're _not_ ..." The hunter began with a shake of his head, but the effort puttered out as he realized what he was doing. "You know what? Go for it. Whatever." Dean rephrased in resigned annoyance, deciding he just didn't care.

The blonde hunter crossed her arms, looking satisfied. Dean shook his head, exasperated. God, this woman was stubborn. She just did _whatever_ she wanted. It was tiring just dealing with her.

"If you fly solo to find a shifter trail, go nuts. Me and Sam have an _actual_ case to do." The Winchester said directly. He wasn't going to waste time searching for trails of shed skin that may not even lead anywhere. It was simple to Dean. She was either hunting with them their way or not at all.

Buffy frowned. "Flying _solo_? I thought we were doing this together."

 _Apparently you have other plans._ The hunter thought pointedly. "Look, we're not driving around the block looking for shifter skin. Time's a-wastin'. There _are_ better ways." Dean told her firmly with a shake of his head, his expression serious.

Buffy stared at him, heavy annoyance on her face. "... If I _stumble_ on it, okay? I get it. I'm in your house." The blonde hunter grumbled. There was still defiance in her eyes though and Dean got the strong suspicion she had wanted to say something entirely different.

"You just gotta keep up with us." The Winchester asserted.

Buffy smiled sarcastically. "I don't think that's _really_ gonna be a problem."

Dean couldn't help but smile amusedly. Buffy may be stubborn as a mule, but he had to admit she had a lot of spunk. "Alright. Let's hit the road." The hunter announced. "But when we get to the families and friends, we got some questioning to do so no more rookie mistakes. Got that, Heather Locklear?" Dean said sternly.

"I'll try. I've just never been a smokescreen kind of gal." She responded uncomfortably, sounding a bit embarrassed. A thoughtful looked gathered to her face. "You know, I did an aptitude test in high school once. My score said I was supposed to be a cop. Guess 'undercover cop' wasn't one of them."

"A _cop_?" Dean repeated incredulously, thinking that had to be the funniest thing he heard all day. He scoffed. "Yeah, I bet. Doesn't use guns and can't lie to save her ass ... some cop." The Winchester said sardonically. He shook his head. "Those school career tests are full of crap." He stated matter-of-factly, starting to walk towards the car.

"Was never a fan of polyester anyway." Buffy quipped in agreement, following after the hunter.

 _ **####**_

"We're sorry for your loss, Mrs. Smitherson."

Dean stared at the middle-aged woman seated on the couch, who only managed a nod at Sam's sympathetic words as she choked back a sob. Her curly, medium-length red hair was pulled back in a messy bun. A box of tissues was in her hands as she dabbed at her eyes with one of them, her green eyes red and puffy from crying. Sympathy pulled at the hunter. It was not a happy sight.

"We _are_ sorry about what happened to your daughter." Dean reiterated meaningfully. "But we just need to figure out _how_ it happened. It's just a couple questions." The hunter told her, serious but still trying to be a little sensitive.

Some of Mrs. Smitherson's sobs quieted a little, though not completely.

Buffy's green gaze was fixed on her understandingly. "We're just trying to help." She reassured gently.

Dean observed this, somewhat satisfied. After picking up Sam and arriving at Tamara's mother's house, Buffy had seemed in much more control. She introduced herself as FBI and was yet to slip up. He didn't know if she was adjusting or just being faced with a grieving mother made her more conscious of everything.

Mrs. Smitherson nodded again, wiping her eyes. "Tamara ... was a good girl. Hard-working, intelligent, and so, so kind. She'd help anyone. She would've made something of herself some day if she hadn't ..." The woman trailed off in grief, sniffling. She shook her head. "I can't believe Daniel did this to her. They were different, sure ... but they were always so happy together."

"So by can't believe it, do you mean 'can't believe it' guilty or 'can't believe it' framed?" Buffy questioned straightforwardly, her wording a little less than orthodox.

Mrs. Smitherson blinked, looking a little taken aback. She paused, frowning. " ... I honestly don't know what to think." She admitted, shaking her head. "The Daniel I know never would've done it. He didn't think things through and was a little irresponsible, but he could never kill anyone. But the knife at the crime scene ..." She trailed off, confusion and pain in her eyes.

The trio exchanged a glance. "Mrs. Smitherson ... did Tamara have any enemies?" Sam asked.

"No. She had plenty of friends. Everyone loved her." The woman responded in sad fondness, looking down. "There was tension between her and Jimmy maybe these past couple weeks, but that was nothing serious."

"Jimmy?" Dean prompted intently.

"Oh, him and Tamara had been friends for years. They grew up together." Mrs. Smitherson informed, looking wistful. "He was a nice boy. Maybe a little ... different, but sweet. He and Tamara had an argument so they hit a rough patch, but he never would've hurt her. I've known him since he was little." She declared with feeling.

 _Got a feeling you didn't know him well enough._ The Winchester thought grimly. He sensed the tenseness from Buffy and Sam and knew they were feeling the same.

"Did you know why they had a fight?" Buffy questioned carefully.

Mrs. Smitherson's expression darkened. " ... It was about Daniel. Jimmy wanted her to stop seeing him." She began. "Jimmy always had a little crush on her. But to Tamara, he was always like a brother, y'know? She looked out for him, like a big sister." Tamara's mother explained. "He never really liked Daniel much. Always thought she was too good for him. I guess we all should've listened to him." She confessed ruefully, sniffling harder and dabbing at her eyes once more.

 _Maybe that's just what he wants you to think._ Dean thought with certainty, disdain flowing through him as he finally started to put this nasty picture together: motivation, the culprit, everything. _You gotta be kidding me._ He thought incredulously, nearly shaking his head. It made him sick.

"Guess so." Buffy said to the woman with a flat look, a note of sarcasm detectable in her voice.

Dean exchanged a tense look with Sam. His brother turned back to Tamara's mother slowly, fixing her with a meaningful look. "Mrs. Smitherson ... where does Jimmy live?"

Jimmy's address turned out to be in Bicknell. Dean wanted to go drive there immediately, but they weren't completely stocked with defenses against shifter. He sensed a fight on the way so they had to gear up back at the motel. Dean had changed out of his FBI outfit to a green overshirt over a black undershirt with jeans and boots. Sam had dressed in a creamish-brown plaid shirt with jeans and boots while Buffy was back in her outfit from before (and seemed all too happy for it).

Following the address Mrs. Smitherson gave them some time later, Dean pulled up beside a moderately-sized two-story house made of faded green shingles with a porch and a driveway leading into the garage. The roof was a hard dark gray and when the Winchester tried to peer at the windows, they were dark. It seemed like no one was inside.

Parking his car a couple houses over on the curb just to be safe, Dean turned off the car and turned his attention to his brother and Buffy. "It looks dark in there. He might not be home." He remarked, giving the house another critical glance.

"If he isn't, then that works for us. Gives us some time to snoop around." Buffy reasoned.

Sam looked less sure. "Maybe, but we don't know if he's in there or not. If we go in, we go in carefully. Can't risk anything else."

"That's why we're going in armed." Dean replied simply, unfazed. He reached around in his shirt pockets, checking to see if it was loaded with silver bullets then looked back at them. "Let's go meet _The Boy Next Door_." The hunter deadpanned, securing his gun back into his jacket as he got out of the car.

With Buffy and Sam, Dean made their way over to Jimmy's house. Temptation to just bust the door open and go inside with his gun as they drew closer pulled at the hunter, but after a moment of teetering he decided since there was still a chance he was here it was better not to be too obvious. Element of surprise always helped.

Dean rapped on the door. "Jimmy Nichols! It's FBI!"

No response. Dean glanced at his partners, shrugging his shoulders. Sam let out a breath. "Jimmy! We'd really like to talk to you!" His younger brother called.

Silence. They waited a moment. Dean dimly noticed Buffy seemed tense, her eyes fixed on the door and standing rigid. The older Winchester looked back meaningfully at Sam and Buffy, hoping they were reading his thoughts. Sam stepped forward and started to pick the lock.

The tension coming from Buffy suddenly eased. Dean glanced at her curiously. The blonde hunter was staring at Sam in surprise and even a little relief. Dean smirked. Clearly she hadn't expected they knew to pick locks ... and what _really_ satisfied him was that she probably didn't know how.

His brother finished his work, pulling back and pushing the door open slightly. Dean gave Sam a nod, then went in first as he pushed the door open and started to walk inside. Sam followed, then Buffy who closed the door. The house was dark, but daylight coming from the windows shined enough light to see the basics.

Dean immediately poised his gun, scanning the living room and the staircase. Nothing. The older hunter glanced sideways at Buffy and Sam, expression meaningful. They both nodded, wordlessly starting to branch off in different directions. Buffy, her silver knife gleaming in the low light, headed directly for the staircase while Sam went towards the kitchen and Dean the dining room.

As he started to investigate, Dean's battle-posture relaxed and eventually he put away his gun. There was no sign of Jimmy. It'd been more than five minutes and there was no commotion from upstairs, telling the Winchester Buffy had come up empty as well. Sam left to check out the garage, leaving Dean now in the kitchen.

 _So Little Jimmy isn't here, huh? Oh well. We'll give him one hell of a surprise._ Dean thought, not too concerned. The fact their shifter suspect wasn't here just tipped the balance in their favor.

"Dean." Sam had reappeared, his own gun also put away. "There's no car. It doesn't look like he's here."

"Yep." Dean confirmed, nodding his head. There was no need for silence anymore. Clearly the three of them were the only ones in this house. "We should keep sniffing around for clues. Shifter skin, dead bodies, the whole nine." The older hunter declared, starting to look around the room again.

Sam nodded solemnly.

"Guys! I think I found something!"

Neither brothers had gone more than a few paces when Buffy's raised voice sounded from upstairs. Immediately, they left the kitchen and rushed up the staircase. Dean whipped his head around the hallway and rooms, urgency running through his veins. The brothers found Buffy in one of the bedrooms, standing beside an open closet.

"What is it?" Sam asked as he and Dean barged into the room, standing behind Buffy.

The blonde hunter pointed inside the closet. Dean's tenseness came back as he spotted the blob of bloody, flesh-colored skin right in the corner. "Does that look molt-y enough for you?" Buffy said meaningfully.

"Jimmy, you bastard." Dean stated flatly, shaking his head in disgust and disappointment.

"So I was right. It _is_ from a shifter." The female hunter said, looking at them intently.

"You're a winner." Dean confirmed, only partially taking his eyes off the mound of skin. Buffy looked pleased with herself.

"We gotta do something. Now that the shifter's tagged, we need to figure out how we're gonna about killing him." Sam brought up seriously.

"Well, we got the element of surprise card. That's one down." Dean responded matter-of-factly, thinking. "We broke in. That's strike two. We just need to hang out 'till he gets here." He reasoned nonchalantly, shrugging.

" _Obviously_." Sam answered with a slight edge, flashing his older brother an unimpressed look. "I mean _how_? Are we just gonna stay inside his house all day or we gonna stake it out?"

Dean grimaced. He _really_ didn't want spend all day in a monster's home. It felt dirty. On the other hand though, he supposed it'd be almost worth it seeing the look on Jimmy the shifter's face seeing three hunters who had been waiting all day to kill him. It sounded like something out of a movie. As tempting as it was for a moment, in his heart he'd just rather be in his car.

After a moment, Dean made up his mind. "We'll just do a stakeout. Whenever that thing gets here, we'll see it coming."

Sam nodded. "It's not like we know when it'll get home. It'd just be easier."

Buffy frowned, glancing back at the shifter skin. " _Darn_. I was _really_ looking forward to giving that monster a heart attack. Would've been the best jump scare _ever_." She said half-jokingly, pouting.

Dean scoffed, recalling that had been the only thing that made him consider staying inside the house not even more than a few minutes ago. He shook his head at the irony. "Don't worry. We'll scare him alright." He reassured amusedly, a small smile playing on his lips as he headed for the doorway leading towards the hallway.

The stakeout hadn't been bad. Normally their stakeouts consisted of hours and hours outside somewhere, staring at windows, and him and Sam taking turns being on lookout while the other got some sleep. They easily lasted an entire day and even well into the night. This one, however, had been tame. Sam, Buffy, and Dean had started it late morning and by the time it hit three o'clock p.m., a car was rolling into Jimmy's driveway.

"He's here." Sam said lowly, watching the garage door open with eyes like a hawk.

"Well then, we better go and say hi." Buffy remarked with a wry smile, clutching her silver knife and twisting it in her hands.

Waiting a moment to make sure Jimmy was probably in his house, Dean jerked to action. Checking reflexively to make sure he still had his gun on him, the hunter stepped out of the Impala and crossed the street again with Buffy and Sam on his heels. As soon as they were in front of the door, Buffy stepped forward and knocked a few times.

They waited. The trio exchanged a glance, bracing themselves. Dean was wired, his expression stone-faced and fully ready to fight. After a minute, the door finally opened.

Standing in the doorway was a tall, lanky young man, dressed in a casual t-shirt and jeans. His skin was pale and pasty, contrasting unflatteringly with his vividly wide, pale blue eyes and short, bleached blonde hair. His limbs were as thin and skinny as sticks, like he had no muscle tone to speak of. He didn't seem threatening. He looked more like a overgrown teenager than any super-powered shifter, but Dean knew from experience with them appearances were always deceiving.

"Who are you?" Jimmy asked, wariness in his ice-water eyes.

Buffy was gracing the shifter with a threatening glare, like she was just a second away from clocking him. The brothers kept their expressions concealed. Sensing another risky display of Buffy's "methods", Dean made sure to act fast. He took out his fake badge, a move Sam immediately echoed. "Jimmy Nichols. FBI. We'd like to have a talk with you." The hunter said briskly.

Apparently realizing they were going for a "low-key" approach instead of straight violence, Buffy took out her own fake badge. She showed it, then quickly shoved back in her jean pocket. The narrowed stare and quiet air of threat took away any professionalism that small gesture had.

Jimmy didn't say anything, studying the three cautiously (and especially Buffy). Sam broke the silence this time. "We heard you were a friend of Tamara Smitherson, the girl who was murdered a couple days ago." The brown-haired hunter said in cold politeness.

"Remember Tam? Childhood friend, smart, pretty, beaten and gutted to death?" Buffy clarified, the veiled judgment in her voice unmistakable.

Jimmy tensed a miniscule. " ... We were friends, yeah." He responded carefully. He paused, observing them, then gave a quick shake of his head. "Anyway, I thought you already caught the guy."

"Did we?" Dean replied flatly, expression unimpressed.

"It was Daniel that did it." Jimmy insisted, tone filled with feeling. "He killed her. He's a bastard and a murderer and behind bars is where he belongs. He deserves everything he gets." The bleached blonde shifter declared bitterly.

There was intense hatred and resentment in Jimmy's eyes. It caught Dean's attention. If he could hate someone that much, then it had to have started from another place. His suspicions inflated. The hunter could easily see this ugly duckling framing Daniel now. The clues left pointing to Jimmy just went from the lukewarm zone to hot.

"Sure that gives you a _real_ happy, doesn't it?" Buffy responded again with an edge, disgust in her green eyes.

"He deserves it!" Jimmy repeated defensively.

"I think we'll be the judge of that, Jimmeister." Dean answered in a hard tone, his expression shifting to threatening. He was in no mood anymore for stalling and pretenses. This sick, son of bitch needed to die and needed to die now.

Sam's face was also hardening. "Mind if we come in?" He asked crisply.

Anger rose to Jimmy's face. "You guys don't need to be here. You already got the guy you're looking for anyway. Roast _him_! Leave me alone." The pale-faced shifter snapped sharply, dark warning in his ice-blue eyes before he slammed the door shut. He heard it lock.

If things had been at "hot" before, now they were on fire.

" _Hey_!" Dean shouted, hitting on the door with his hands.

Dean was in full _'Hunter Mode'_ now. Both Winchesters started throw themselves at the door to force it open, but suddenly Buffy shoved the brothers aside with a ease that startled Dean. Before he even registered it, the blonde hunter kicked at the door handle with lightening fast movement, breaking the lock inside and busting the door open. Buffy stalked through the doorway without a waver, the doorknob rolling on the ground behind her.

Dean stared in disbelief. A tiny, _very_ feminine-looking blonde girl just broke a lock on a door in less than a second. Even with the situation, he just couldn't control his shock. It was unbelievable. The only thing that disturbed him more was that he found it sexy as hell.

"Dude, who is this chick?" Dean asked incredulously, an odd mixture of turned on and alienated he didn't think he'd ever be able to explain.

Sam looked just as shocked, but was trying to get a grip. "We have to help her."

Dean snapped out of his inappropriate stupor. Drawing their guns, together the Winchester brothers followed Buffy into the house. The blonde hunter was facing off against Jimmy, who was staring at her in outrage. Dean and Sam aimed their guns at the shifter, ready to shoot while Buffy was in the middle of a rant.

"It was you. You're the one that killed Tamara. You framed him." Buffy accused, stepping closer to Jimmy threateningly.

"I didn't!" The shifter responded defiantly. He finally noticed the guns trained on him from the brothers, starting to look uneasy. He shook his head. "Daniel's DNA was at the scene. There's no way I would've—"

"Cut the crap. We know what you are." Dean interrupted curtly.

Jimmy's expression changed. Grim realization dawned in his eyes. Suddenly Buffy came at Jimmy with her knife. The man moved backwards, dodging but the blonde hunter just came back with another strike. Jimmy caught her wrist, trying to snap it backwards and disarm her, but Buffy socked him right in the nose.

The shifter let go with a groan, stepping back. The blonde hunter attacked again with the knife, but the shifter recovered with a block. In a whirlwind of struggle and movement, Jimmy clutched her arms and twisted her around, restraining her against him. Buffy made a noise of frustration, glaring as she couldn't raise her arm with the knife.

Dean hesitated tensely, unsure what to do. His gun was loaded with silver bullets, but given the position she was in he couldn't just go and start shooting. Even though he _did_ in fact know how to aim, he didn't want to risk shooting her.

Frustration rose in his chest. This is exactly what he had warned her when he said "no knife to gunfight". This whole thing just pissed him off.

 _Screw this, I'm shooting._ The Winchester decided in split second, unable to stand inaction. With that thought, he started firing. Jimmy startled and tried to move out of the way, still restraining Buffy. An onslaught of bullets between him and Sam came, nicking Jimmy. The shifter's skin sizzled, letting out a yell. His grip loosening, Buffy forcefully pulled the shifter's arms off her and swiftly slashed with her knife.

It hit. The shifter groaned. Dean and Sam stopped firing, the smoke caused from everything else they shot clearing. Buffy had leaped to a safe distance, her silver knife armed and raised. Having expected it but still relieved, Dean saw the blonde hunter didn't have a single bullet hole on her. Jimmy's shoulder was bleeding. He was holding his hand, which had a long, thick sizzling cut across his palm.

Jimmy raised his head, pain and anger on his face. " ... Hunters." He growled hatefully.

" _American Gothic_." Dean mocked in deadpan.

"Why'd you do it, Jimmy? Or do we have to run through this again?" Sam prompted sharply, his gun still trained on the shifter.

Jimmy paused, his expression darkening as a whirlwind of mixed emotions spread across it. " ... She was too good for him. Daniel was always too busy partying and hanging out with his friends. He never paid Tam any attention! Not like I did. I knew her forever and she still stayed with that dick!" He vented in a rage.

"So you killed her ... for being just not that into you." Buffy summed up, her expression achingly unimpressed.

"I did _everything_ for her! I knew her before Daniel and she never gave me a chance." Strong rage and hurt colored his face. "I _loved_ her. Daniel was never there for her, I always was! It wasn't fair! And if I couldn't have her—"

"If you couldn't have her, then no one can." The female hunter finished matter-of-factly, visible disgust on her face. "Can I just tell you how much that cliché _never_ made sense?"

"You knew Tamara since you were kids ... and you murdered her just for that?" Sam responded incredulously. He shook his head. "Even for a monster, that's cold. You never loved her, Jimmy. Not if you could do that."

Jimmy's look was cold. "She deserved it. If she could never see me, then she deserved it."

"Well, if you ask me, she should've seen you as less, you crazy, O.J. wannabe." Dean remarked matter-of-factly, his expression hard. "So you got stuck in the Friendzone. Boo-hoo. Be a man instead of being a wuss." The Winchester retorted strongly, scowling. "Well, I guess you couldn't really do that either, could you?" He clarified cuttingly, remembering he was a monster.

"Jimmy. I think you have a disease." Buffy began lightly, on the attack. Jimmy dodged, only for blonde hunter to throw a hard kick that instantly unbalanced him. "It's called Nice Guy Syndrome." The two grappled. "You think a girl owes you everything just for being 'nice'." Finally she landed a brutal hit on his leg. Dean heard a crunch and Jimmy fell to one knee, groaning. "You _think_ you're nice." Buffy punched him hard in the face, sending him crashing to floor. "But you're not nice, Jimmy. You're a pathetic excuse of monster who's only cure-all is this shiny thing right here." Buffy shook her knife meaningfully, then lunged it towards his heart.

Jimmy rolled on the floor, dodging the knife yet again. The shapeshifter avoided another knife thrust in a roll, only this time took both legs and kicked Buffy away with his strength. The blonde hunter flew towards the staircase, hitting the wall and very nearly the staircase railings. She grunted with a wince, her green eyes glaring.

Dean wasn't able to comprehend anything that just happened when Jimmy started running towards the kitchen. Sam immediately started firing his gun again, closing the long-range distance as he advanced. Jimmy ducked, shielding himself by the kitchen island as the bullets broke glass and bounced off other areas. Reloading his clip, Dean followed after his younger brother.

Between the sounds of gunfire and broken objects, Jimmy fumbled around a kitchen drawer and pulled out a gun. Dean's eyes widened. "Damn it! Sammy!" He called to his brother in warning, who was closer than him.

Only a second after that shots fired from the shifter's gun. Sam dove behind the island while Dean ran for cover, ducking his head down and praying the barrage of bullets missed.

Hiding behind a couch, Dean stayed there a moment as the reality of the situation hit him. Bullets had grazed his arm, which was better than being completely shot but still hurt like a bitch. He was running low on silver bullets and couldn't start shooting carelessly anymore. Buffy had beaten up that shifter badly. How the hell she could do that he couldn't think on right now. Dean just knew he was bruised, but not down. It did not look good.

Sam appeared around the corner of the couch, taking shelter beside him. Dean was relieved to see his brother wasn't severely hurt, in fact even looked better than him. The younger Winchester nodded at him. "Running low on bullets. You?" Dean prompted him.

"I won't let you ruin my life! _You're all dead_!" Jimmy's rage-filled voice filtered through the gunfire.

"Yep." Sam confirmed to Dean, reloading his clip with the last few remaining silver bullets. "We can't let this drag out anymore. We gotta get close, then take the shot." The brown-haired hunter stated, glancing at his brother meaningfully.

Dean peered over the couch as swiftly as possible, ducking away from the bullets as he fired one more shot. Buffy was in front of him, crawling on the floor and hiding behind an arm-chair. His shot very nearly got Jimmy in the head, who was hiding behind the island but instead connected with the sink. Dean headed for cover again.

He glanced back at Sam, who was looking at him incredulously. The older hunter shrugged. "It was worth a shot." He remarked nonchalantly. Knowing they were at their last ditch effort, Dean sobered again. "Ready to jump into the fire?" He prompted.

"No." Sam said plainly, expression resigned.

The older Winchester readied his gun. "Let's ride." He answered grimly, knowing he needed to act now before he overthought it. Nodding at his brother one more time, Dean twisted around the shelter of the bullet-strewn couch and ran right out in the open towards Jimmy as fast as his legs could carry him. Sam was only a step or two behind him.

Jimmy stood up, his gun still poised as he continued shooting. The brothers zigzagged in opposite directions, trying to dodge the barrage. Sharp stinging shot through Dean as the shapeshifter's bullet hit his left shoulder dead-on, agonizingly close to his grazes but he grit his teeth and kept charging. Just as Jimmy took a moment to reload his bullet cartridges, the brothers were on him.

Sam clutched the shifter's arm, expertly disarming him. With his better arm, Dean punched Jimmy across the face. The shapeshifter head-butted Sam right before Dean fired. Jimmy twisted the Winchester's arm, sending the shot into the ceiling. Jimmy shoved Dean away, sliding and rolling as he was propelled directly into the dining room wall.

White hot pain siphoned through Dean when he landed on his bad shoulder. Black spots danced across his vision instantly. The Winchester unsteadily scrambled to sit up as fast he could, clutching his throbbing shoulder as he bit his lip. _Jimmy, you son of a bitch!_ He thought angrily, willing away the stabbing pain and trying to refocus on the shifter.

Buffy was locked with Jimmy, throwing punches and kicks with a good amount of blocks and connecting. Dean's eyes widened, his pain temporarily forgotten as he took everything in. Buffy's battle grace and speed was dazzling. Shapeshifters were faster than him and Sam, yet the blonde hunter was matching Jimmy step for step.

 _Whoa._ The hunter thought, startled.

Dean was transfixed, struck by a wave of disbelief tinged with uneasiness. It reminded him eerily of the first time he saw Buffy fight against those demons in that alleyway except this time it was in high definition. He knew he wasn't imagining it or being paranoid. He had a literal front row seat to this battle and there was nothing human about it.

As if wanting to confirm his worst suspicions, Buffy seized Jimmy's shoulders after a hard elbow to his face and threw him over the kitchen island—literally threw him, airborne—out of kitchen and back into the living room. Lightning shock electrified Dean and he glanced at Sam, who was against the wall of the staircase railings. He looked as stunned as him.

Buffy advanced. Seeing the shifter already trying to get up, the older hunter tried to snap to his senses and take his shot. Catching his gun tossed over by the kitchen, Dean got to his feet and bolted. The sudden movement jarred his shoulder, but he didn't pause as he scooped up his gun and aimed, poised to shoot.

As soon as he had his finger on the trigger, Buffy deflected another blow from Jimmy and pierced her knife directly into his heart. The shapeshifter stiffened, crying out in pain as he tried in vain to reach for the knife. With a hard glare, the blonde hunter pulled the knife out and watched as the monster collapsed on the ground.

"One less 'Nice guy' all women are left better off without." The blonde remarked with feeling, staring down at the body who's eyes were already glazing with death.

Dean stared at Buffy intensely. The brief moment of relaxation of the shifter dead left nearly as soon as it came, swamped once more by the tension and uneasiness. A whirlwind of emotions battled in Dean. Confusion, shock, dismay, and suspicion. After a split second, Dean went with the one he knew he could trust the most.

The older Winchester raised his gun again. He exchanged a meaningful look with Sam, who looked desperately taken off guard. His younger brother caught it and calmed. The brown-haired hunter nodded tersely and raised his own gun, the last hint of puzzlement on his face taken over by grim resolve.

"We need to save Daniel." Buffy voiced matter-of-factly, turning her head to look back at the brothers. The blonde instantly startled, eyes widening when she took in the two guns trained on her. "What are you doing?" She asked in bewilderment.

"What are you?" Dean said brusquely, expression hard. "First, the alley where you tusseled with those demons. You didn't have a scratch on you. Now you're throwing around shifters?" The older Winchester interrogated, him and Sam closing in on. "Something more is keeping you going and it ain't spinach."

"You're not human." Sam declared with certainty.

Buffy looked between them uneasily. "I'm not your enemy." She began meaningfully, raising her hands defensively.

"You've been keeping secrets from us. That doesn't make you a friend." Sam answered cuttingly.

Frustration mounted on the blonde's face. " _Look_. Just take the guns off and we'll talk." Buffy ordered sharply.

"How about you come clean now and then we'll see?" Dean said in finality, expression harsh as he kept his finger on the trigger.

For a moment, Buffy looked defiant, but when Sam and Dean still looked uncompromising her emotions seemed to calm. She paused, fixing them with an unreadable look. " ... I'm a slayer." She replied solemnly.

Dean frowned fractionally. "You mean a _Slayer_ groupie?" The Winchester couldn't help himself, highly confused.

"No! _Gross_." Buffy said impatiently, shaking her head with a face of disgust. "I mean it's a my world thing. We're _called_ slayers."

"So you're basically killers?" Sam said skeptically, voicing it more as a fact than a question.

The blonde's expression steeled. "We are _not_ killers." She replied, her tone icy.

"Well, whatever the hell you are, you lied to us. You told us you weren't a monster." Dean accused with a edge.

"And I'm _not_!" Buffy snapped angrily, waving her arms around wildly.

"Well, you aren't _human_. Walking a thin line here." The older Winchester countered curtly.

Buffy's eyes flashed. "I am a slayer, and we are _not_ monsters." The blonde reiterated with passion. "Try saying that to me again and next time, I _will_ be." She warned, her green gaze hot and angry.

 _Denying it a little_ too _much, don't you think?_ Dean thought skeptically, narrowing his eyes. Buffy might be from a different world, but the terms "monster" and "killer" certainly ruffled more than a few feathers when aimed at her.

"What _are_ you?" Sam repeated in bewilderment.

Buffy let out a breath and their gazes steadily. " ... I'm just like you, only with a little extra." She answered simply. "Okay, so I have powers, but I fight _monsters_. I fight _evil_. I don't hurt people. We're on the same side." The blonde slayer went on firmly.

"So you're like a superhero?" Dean asked dubiously.

"Wasn't going to go that tacky, but sure. I'm like a superhero." Buffy summed up in exasperation, rolling her eyes.

Dean studied her, her words resonating. He knew _something_ about her hadn't been normal. That certainly explained her confidence and ridiculous high tolerance against attacks. His distrust chipped away somewhat, but his flood of questions still kept it there. He glanced at Sam, trying to catch what he thought. His brother didn't look like he knew _what_ to think.

The older Winchester glanced back at Buffy. "And why didn't you tell us this?" The hunter questioned disapprovingly.

"Gee. With two guns aimed at me, I just can't imagine why." The blonde replied glibly, her sarcastic smile falling after as she looked at them pointedly.

Dean wasn't satisfied at all. Annoyance welled up in the older hunter. If she just told all of this to them earlier, then maybe this all could have been avoided. It just made her look bad and made him suspicious.

Sam shook his head. "You still should've told us. We can't go around helping you when we don't know the whole picture." His little brother chastised, his green gaze meaningful. "We need to trust you. If we want our help, then you need to spill all your guts out there."

Buffy wasn't fazed. "Just spilled them."

 _A little late._ Dean thought pointedly, nearly scoffing. Underneath all his bluster though, the older hunter was as lost on how to approach this as Sam was. He had seen Buffy's dedication in hunting down this shifter and her unrelenting desire in going home. She certainly _seemed_ to care about people. He just couldn't shake the suspicion surrounding around the fact she hadn't told them her abilities.

"I know I haven't been telling everything, but monsters, killing them, saving people ... that's all true." The blonde slayer continued meaningfully. "I'm just like you guys ... _mostly_. And I'm not bad." She stated, just a little awkwardness creeping in. "So I say we _both_ do our jobs and get Daniel free." Buffy declared determinedly.

Dean hesitated, still having too many questions to totally ignore his reservations. When neither brothers said anything, the blonde's expression became more earnest. "Look, I promise I'll explain everything later." She assured. "I was flying in blind when I got here and I still went to you two for help. I _chose_ to trust you. Now you have to trust me." Buffy's gaze was steady.

The Winchester nearly sighed, exchanging a glance with Sam. He could see the aching resignation on his face as clearly as Dean felt his own. Looking back at the blonde, Dean finally lowered his gun. Whatever Buffy came from, whatever she was, whatever the questions Dean had ... he and his brother knew she had a point. Wrong time, wrong place.

Sam nodded, his gun already put away. "Let's go free Daniel."

* * *

~~Buffy~~

Buffy hoisted herself up by the window ledge with a grunt, pushing the fiberglass hatch further out of her way and twisting her body over. The blonde slayer landed inside the police department six feet down with a soft thud, landing on her feet. Darkness had wreathed the silent, nearly empty room. A flashlight shined on her and she dimly made out Dean's broad shoulders.

He thrust something towards her. "Take the other flashlight. We can't go lighting up the place when it's supposed to be closed."

The blonde slayer took it, turning it on and flashing it across the room. Entering through the hatch ended up with the two of them in someone's office, based on the cubicle-like angle, desks, trash can, bookshelf, and bunch of files. No one seemed to be here though. They had decided to break in the BPD after-hours to avoid conflict with cops, but Buffy at least expected security so the lack of it surprised her.

As her flashlight passed Dean, she noticed how rigid and tense he looked. His left arm was stiff, being held by his other arm. Buffy turned it back on him, self-awareness and a prickle of irritation striking through her. "You know, I could've done this by myself." She muttered, giving him a pointed look.

Dean narrowed his eyes. "We're finishing the case. What, you think just because you got powers I'll drag you down?" The hunter challenged, looking offended.

Anger surged in Buffy. Did he have turn this around into a pride match? " _No_ , Macho Man! I mean you're hurt. You shouldn't go off climbing out of windows and breaking into places." The blonde slayer snapped, giving him a sharp look.

The Winchester was stubborn. As soon she started talking, he slowly let go of his bad arm and straightened his posture. The attempt to suddenly look normal was so transparent Buffy didn't understand why he even tried. "Still walking, aren't I?"

Buffy glared at him. "Didn't you get shot in the shoulder or something? That's not just a bruise. Even for a slayer, bullets hurt." She remarked matter-of-factly, feeling gathering in her expression as she remembered her own experience.

Dean did not look impressed. "Not like it's amputated. We're doing this." He said in finality.

Buffy shook her head slightly, disapproval stamped on her face. God, this guy was infuriating and proud and pig-headed and basically every other word synonymous to annoying. Why did she bother showing him _any_ consideration? _If that starts bleeding again, then that's his problem. Deal with it, tough guy._ The blonde thought, officially writing off caring.

"Sam's hacking into this place's security. He's taking off the eyes, I'm going in. You're just tagging along." Dean told her seriously. "Now let's get a move on. We got a jail-break to do." He added as he turned away, stepping carefully around with the help of his flashlight.

Buffy stood there a moment, fuming. Not to mention _bossy_. That was another word she could add to Top Annoying Dean Traits list.

Ignoring the endless amounts of complaints and comebacks on the tip of her tongue, the small blonde regrouped herself by remembering the reason they were here. Adjusting her flashlight, Buffy cleared her head to "slay mode" and followed after the hunter.

Maneuvering their way through the large and unfamiliar BPD department took just a little longer than it should've. It was completely dark and cluttered. Even with the flashlights, it was hard to not hit anything. Especially for Dean, in all his obvious soreness and slower, stiffer walking. Let's just say when _he_ tripped or bumped into something, he let you know it.

With some fumbling, their flashlights finally shined on the big, dark door at the very end of the building. Dean ran his hand across the door, gripping the handle of it and pulling at it. "Locked." He identified.

There was a pause. Buffy shined her flashlight on Dean, frowning. The Winchester looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Buffy, can you, uh ... do that thing you did earlier?" He asked her reluctantly, like he had wanted to say a thousand different things.

"You aren't gonna do your magic lock pick?" The slayer asked innocently.

She knew how much saying that would piss him off and she was glad when it did. Dean scowled deeply. "This is taking too long and your way's quicker, alright?! Just do it!" He responded impatiently, throwing out his arms.

Buffy smirked. Dean's Mr. Joe Capable pride could be really, really annoying but at the same time it was kind of entertaining. Taking the hunter's place by the door, she gripped the door handle and pushed at it with a careful amount of her slayer strength. In a second, Buffy destroyed the lock with ease and walked with Dean into the jail cell.

"What the hell? Who's there?" Shuffling and scrambling sounded in the darkness.

"Your rescuers." Dean answered matter-of-factly, already making his way towards the cell.

Catching a light switch on the side of the wall, Buffy mentally decided it was safe and flicked it on. The room lit up. Daniel, still in the same clothes from the last time, was standing up in his cell with his hands gripping the bars while Dean approached him. Buffy walked over to catch up.

Daniel frowned. "Aren't you those two FBI agents from the other day?"

"Actually, we're not really FBI." Dean told him straightforwardly, standing in front of the jail cell. Daniel's expression turned incredulous, but the hunter continued on without a waver. "We're here to bust you out."

"We know you weren't the one that did it. Jimmy Nichols did. He framed you." Buffy revealed seriously, in front of the cell now too.

Daniel's eyes widened, a whole other kind of disbelief flashing across his face. He lowered his head, quiet a second " ... I knew it." He began quietly, his voice low and emotional. After a pause, he raised his head. "I knew Jimmy had something against her! He could never just take the hint." Daniel vented bitterly. He shook his head. "I told _her_ to stay away from that creep, but she never ... that son of a bitch. How could he do that to _Tam_?" He said almost despairingly, anger mixing with loss.

Sympathy jutted through the blonde slayer. "He won't ever do something like that again. We took care of him." Buffy reassured.

Daniel faltered. He paused, narrowing his eyes slightly. " ... What do you mean 'took care of him'?"

"What do you think?" Dean said pointedly, expression flat.

The brown-haired man scoffed. " _You_ killed him?" He said in disbelief.

Discomfort shot through Buffy. "No, it's not like that." The blonde replied a little too quickly.

"You _didn't_ kill him?" Daniel questioned, looking bewildered.

"No, we did. It's just that ... we _had_ to. It's complicated." The blonde slayer answered uncomfortably, looking at him awkwardly. "Jimmy wasn't ... _like_ us." She began lamely, trying to find a way to lessen the blow. Telling normal people monsters existed just never got any easier.

"He was a monster." Dean said bluntly, not even wavering. Aggravaion funneled through Buffy. _Go for it. Just drop the bomb. It's not like it changes your whole life or anything._ The blonde reflected irritably. Sensitivity was just not this guy's strong suit, was it?

Daniel snorted. "That's not a mystery."

"No. I mean, like an actual _monster_. Living, breathing, human-killing monster. _They're_ real." The Winchester stated matter-of-factly.

The young man stared at him. "Like in the movies?"

Resigned with the direction this was going, Buffy turned back to Daniel and nodded. "He could change form. He turned into you and killed Tamara. That's why that knife at the scene had your DNA. It wasn't your typical frame job. That's why ... we had to." She explained solemnly.

Daniel was silent, gaping at them with a dumbfounded look on his face. " ... You people are insane." He finally said incredulously, looking at them like they just grew two heads.

" _There_ it is." Dean muttered, shaking his head with an annoyed expression.

Her patience also having reached it's breaking point, Buffy rolled her eyes and grabbed at the jail cell door. She pulled a moment, finally ripping it right off it's hinges and tossing the heavy object aside with a grunt. A loud clanking sound split the air as it hit the floor, then stilled in silence as the slayer glanced back at Daniel flatly.

The young man was cowering in the back of cell, his brown eyes wide and wild with terror. Even Dean looked startled. " _What ... what the hell_?!" Daniel yelped out shrilly, his voice high-pitched with shock and fear.

"That real enough for you?" Buffy prompted flatly.

Daniel scrambled, using the jail bars to pull himself back up. "What the hell _are_ you, lady?" He questioned incredulously.

 _I'm getting real tired of hearing that._ The small blonde thought resentfully, scowling.

Dean scoffed. "Good question."

Buffy instantly glared at the hunter, but the meaningful look he was shooting her said more than words.

When she returned back to Daniel, her expression was hard. " ... I'm one of the people _helping_ you. And if you want out of here, then you better start treating it as a rescue, not charades. Now come on." Buffy rebuffed. She had been treated like she wasn't human all day and she was sick of it. She wasn't going to take it from this guy too, who's ass she was in fact saving.

Daniel straightened fully, hesitating with a skeptical and still weirded out look on his face.

Dean quickly turned impatient right along with her. "Look. _I know._ It's a lot to take in. But if you don't come with us, you're not gonna ever see light out of that jail cell." The hunter stated meaningfully, his expression serious. "You can _trust_ us."

Daniel didn't move, regarding them with an unreadable look. The brown-haired man's eyes flicked over them both, then he stepped away from the back of the cell and walked slowly out of it. He faced them, his expression lined with grim desperation. "Get me the hell out of here."

 _ **####**_

"New papers, new name, new I.D." Dean said matter-of-factly, handing each object to Daniel as he listed them off. "That'll keep you off the police radar. You can go wherever now, so long as it's not Bicknell."

It had been a day since Buffy and Dean broke Daniel out of the jail and immediately they drove out of the small Utah town to a few more towns over, knowing the cops would soon find out the young man had escaped. It was light out now. Daniel had gotten a change of clothes and had a backpack slung on one shoulder, turning over everything Dean handed him with a small frown.

"Aren't these all forged?" Daniel guessed. He raised his head back at them, a skeptical look on his frown. "And this is supposed to work?"

"Got us out of a lot of tight spots before." Dean answered nonchalantly, half-shrugging.

"Believe me, it works. Ours is pretty high quality." Sam assured, nodding.

Buffy listened with a dim sense of amusement. Sam and Dean talked so easily about fraud and forgery like it was nothing. They appeared as criminals who didn't seem to care about the law and yet still saved people at the same time. The irony was just funny. She didn't do it that way. At least ... not all the time. Buffy couldn't help but wonder just how many illegal things they've actually done in their lifetime.

Daniel looked over the papers again, not looking entirely convinced. After a moment, he looked back at them. "... So monsters are all real. And you kill them for living?" The young man prompted them, an uncomfortable look.

"Well, not exactly. We don't get paid." Dean admitted.

Daniel looked incredulous. "And Jimmy was a ..."

"A shapeshifter." Sam said.

"Right." The young man agreed almost numbly, giving an miniscule nod. "And ... what the hell are you again?" Daniel questioned with an edge, looking incredulous as he turned sharply at Buffy.

Buffy didn't take offense. "Slayer. We fight monsters." She felt Dean and Sam's intense eyes on her as she spoke. Why, she already knew. Buffy just hoped they weren't letting the doubts about her get to them.

Daniel blinked, not saying a word as he nodded slowly. He looked tired, almost detached from everything. The blonde slayer softened, staring at him sympathetically. She knew finding out monsters existed ruined a lot of what you expected from the world. She had been him once. At least he could still run away from it.

The young man lowered his eyes. "So there's no way I can still go home?" He asked them uncertainly.

"No." Sam was sympathetic, but firm. "The shifter wasn't disguised as you when he died so we can't fake your death. If you went back to town now, you'd just get arrested again." The brown-haired hunter informed, just being honest.

Daniel sighed. "Great. That dick Jimmy's dead and he's still screwing me over." He mumbled, bitterness in his voice.

More pity for the young man enveloped Buffy. He wasn't wrong. Even if they killed the shapeshifter and freed Daniel, he was still thought of as a murderer. They couldn't fake his death and they couldn't clear his name. His whole life was changed forever just because of a one monster. He had been innocent. He didn't deserve any of this.

"Do you have any family?" Dean asked, his voice a pitch less rough than it usually was. Buffy could tell he felt sorry for the poor guy too.

Daniel shook his head. "No family. It's just me."

"It'll be better after this, okay? A clean slate. Complete fresh start. I promise." Buffy reassured with feeling, giving him a comforting smile. She hoped that was true. This man had been through enough.

Daniel paused, looking deep in thought. " ... I guess I'll catch that bus. I don't know where I'm going after that, but ... I'll figure it out." The brown-haired man announced, shrugging his shoulders. He refocused on the trio, serious again. "Thanks for getting me out and ... avenging Tam. I'm glad I at least know what really happened to her." There was just a touch of pain in his voice, but his gratitude was sincere.

"No problem." Dean answered dismissively.

"Be careful out there." Sam said.

Daniel nodded tersely. He stared at the three of them a moment more before he turned away and started trekking down the sidewalk deeper into the city. Soon enough Daniel's back and backpack vanished under the flood of people and it was as if he was never there.

Buffy watched him go, mixed feelings throttling her heart. She wished she could've done more for Daniel. If she knew something about anything these days, it was being wanted for a huge misunderstanding. Daniel got off easy compared to _her_ situation back at home, but it still didn't make it fair. She was glad she helped him though. At least she finally helped _someone_.

It had been a hell of a slay (or "case", as Sam and Dean liked to call it for some reason). She had signed up for this thinking just maybe she could be back in her comfort zone with nothing on the going home front, but she had never been more wrong. Nothing the way Sam and Dean did things was the way she did it. She wasn't allowed to even be in _charge_. No, she had to dress up as FBI, do everything behind the scenes, and follow Sam and Dean around like she hadn't been a slayer for ten years. That idea of "comfort zone" was like a distant memory at this point.

After everything she had been through on this "case", she was exhausted and the satisfaction of helping someone wasn't strong enough to completely erase Buffy's resentment at the situation she had gotten herself into. She wanted to go home. She wanted to check on her friends. She wanted out.

Sensing eyes on her again, Buffy turned her head. Sam and Dean were staring at her with intensifying focus, questions and grim skepticism etched in every line on their faces. Dean was looking at her through narrowed eyes.

 _And then there's my_ not _-friends. Ready to tenderize and grill me._ Buffy reminded herself, weariness piercing her to the bone. She _so_ did not want to indulge their paranoia and act like she had something to prove when she didn't, but what could she do? She was between a rock and a hard place. Right now they were her only hope.

Buffy looked away with a sigh. She never went _looking_ for trouble. It just always found her.

* * *

~~Dean~~

"So let me just get this cleared up." Dean began as he gestured with one hand, holding a beer in another as he stood in the library at the Men of Letters bunker. "You have super strength, super speed, cat-like reflexes, and can basically heal any wound you ever get." The Winchester described a little incredulously.

"Well, not _every_ one. Still deep in that pesky, little fad called _morality_." Buffy deadpanned. "I-I just heal faster than most people. But yeah, that's about it. All written in the _A Slayer's Life_ brochure." She confirmed, giving a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders.

Dean stared at her, trying to wrap his head around this. " ... So you're basically a bona-fide _Wonder Woman_." The hunter summed up matter-of-factly.

The blonde slayer smiled. "Yep. Watch me fly around in skin-tight leather and silver bracelets. Though I lost my golden lasso in the mail ..." She remarked light-heartedly, every word striking another cord in Dean. Noticing the Winchester's thoroughly alienated look, she frowned. "I can't really fly." She clarified awkwardly.

 _Thank god._ Dean thought in relief, thinking that might've been just a _little_ too much for him. He took a swig of his beer. He really needed it right now if he was going to keep having conversations like this.

"So you're not a monster. You just have powers." Sam stated with ease from his place beside Dean, all confusion and suspicion of her lost. He scoffed a little. "I guess you really are like a superhero." He said in vague amusement, smiling a little.

Buffy paused, giving him a flat look. "... Keep me away from capes and tights and you can call me that _as much_ as you want." She replied with feeling, giving a forced smile. Sam chuckled.

A thought suddenly occurred to Dean. Immediate horror squeezed his insides. "Wait a second. Slayers aren't just an alternate universe version of Amazonians, right?" The older Winchester asked tensely. He fixed his gaze on her meaningfully. "You're not an Amazon, are you?" He pushed, literally dreading the answer to that.

The blonde frowned. "You mean like _Hercules_ and Greek mythology and stuff?" She questioned. The look on his face was the only answer she needed. Buffy quickly shook her head. "No. Not a _Xena_ -type." She assured, sounding firm.

The relief was like a splash of cold water. "Good. Bad times." Dean answered with feeling, his expression far away as he remembered his encounter with an Amazon so awful, he didn't have sex for months. The last thing he needed was another hot chick that was a damn Amazon.

Sam scoffed at his older brother, then turned back to Buffy. "What's it like? I mean, what do you eat? How do you live? And how do you kill? Can you actually beat monsters to death?" The brown-haired hunter inquired, his expression filled with curiosity.

Buffy looked at him flatly a second, not impressed. "Herbivore. I graze. Plants, grass, salads, all those leafy greens. Ooh, and I have these little horns that pop out for self-defense and sometimes the zoo keeper lets me out so I can run." The blonde slayer said sardonically, giving a bright and glib smile.

Dean almost laughed, just barely holding it in. _I gotta hand it to her. When this chick sasses, she really sasses._ The Winchester admitted in amusement, looking over at his embarrassed brother and smirking at his expense. He always appreciated a good comeback, especially when it was towards his little brother.

Sam looked humbled. "Sorry. It's just ... we've never seen something like you before. You're in a whole other league."

"Well, I'm not in the _zoo_ league, so let's start there." The blonde clarified pointedly, shooting him a look. She frowned thoughtfully. "Everything else is pretty humanish. I eat, I sleep, I breathe with a lot of slaying in between." She began matter-of-factly. Her frown deepened. "And I don't really go for that whole beating to death thing. I mean, I'll beat them up, sure. But ... I kinda like the weapons."

Dean listened to all this intently. He got a little more now about where the "not so different, you and me" pitch came from. She, overall, seemed human. The only thing inhuman about her was those powers.

"Really?" Sam said in interest.

 _Look at him. Like a kid in a candy store._ Dean thought disbelievingly, seeing the fascination in his brother's eyes. He couldn't share it. Buffy was different, sure, but that's exactly what bothered him. A _slayer_? What was he supposed to do with that? He knew what she said, but he also knew what he knew. In his experience, having powers meant you weren't human.

 _No way it's that simple. There's gotta be more than that. Buffy has to have something else in there keeping her going._ Dean thought, certain of it. It didn't matter what world she came from. If you could have powers like that, then you weren't completely human.

"So what's _all_ of that even mean? What's a slayer?" Dean questioned upfront, looking at her probingly. "What are you, a mutant? Half-demon?" The Winchester just threw out whatever popped in his head as he tried to piece this all together.

Buffy hardened instantly. "I am _not_ a demon. I'm _human_."

"Well, you're half- _something_!" Dean said impatiently, throwing out a hand as he scowled. "You don't just get cooked up into the world with a bunch of special powers and not have a little something else in the mix." He declared in finality, not getting this. He was just being honest. Why did she keep giving him smokescreens?

The blonde slayer's look intensified. "I wasn't _born_ this way. I was _called_."

"What?" Dean drew back, frowning in bewilderment.

"What do you mean _called_?" Sam asked carefully.

"I used to be normal. Just your average snobby, shallow cheerleader big on the boys and the fashion." Buffy explained almost cuttingly, deeply wrapped in her thoughts. "When I was fifteen, I was called. Got the slayer jumpstart and here I am." She finished sharply, gesturing to herself.

Dean's discomfort eased somewhat. "You had your powers since you were fifteen?" He asked cautiously. That definitely surprised him. _Why?_ He asked himself, bewildered. Where did she get her power from and why then?

"One girl in all the world. The Chosen One. Destined to fight off the demons and the vampires and world destruction and anything resembling normal." Buffy recited with a hint of exasperation, her arms crossed. "That's how this never-ending monster movie started. I'm supposed to fight evil and save the world until I die. That's what slayers _are_." She explained pointedly.

 _That's one hell of quota._ Dean couldn't help thinking, shocked at what he just heard. It sounded like a twisted version of a super-powered hunter, except the way she described it was just her and her world depended on it. Understanding began to dawn on him.

 _What the hell kind of universe rips someone away from an apple pie life and expects one person to do everything?_ Dean thought in disgust, hating the way her universe worked even more. It reminded him too much of the angels. They had no right to put that burden on Buffy or anyone. It was too big.

"And you've been dealing with this since ... ?" Sam prompted, gesturing at her questioningly.

Buffy looked resigned. "Fifteen. The magic number."

Dean stared incredulously. That was even _worse_. She hadn't even been an adult and she was expected to go around not just killing monsters, but saving the damn world too? More disgust funneled through Dean. The hunting life was bad on it's own. It jacked up your childhood enough. That and being the only person to save world? That just screamed needing a lot of shrinks.

 _That's friggin' awful, throwing a teenager into that. She shouldn't have even been hunting._ The Winchester thought in disapproval, very indignant with this. No kid that young should get into hunting. He and Sam spoke for themselves. He knew what it did so Dean knew her universe must've ruined Buffy's life. Hell, if she _had_ a life.

Sam also looked upset by this. "I'm sorry. To have all that weight on your shoulders at that age, to be the only one dealing with it ... that's harsh." His younger brother said sympathetically, sincerity in his eyes.

Buffy was quiet, looking down with a unreadable expression. " ... That's how it used to be, at least. Only one. But it's not like that anymore." The blonde began seriously. At Sam and Dean's questioning looks, she went on. "My friend Willow casted a spell. Called all of 'em. Now there's _hundreds_."

Sam looked incredulous. "A _spell_? You mean she's a witch?"

"You're friends with a _witch_?" Dean said scornfully, unable to keep the judgment out of his voice.

Buffy was not happy at this. " _Yes_ , actually. She's a good person and one of my best friends. She _works_ with me. She _helps_ people." The small blonde snapped, an edge to her voice.

Dean could not believe this. " _How?_ She's a _witch_." He retorted, sporting just as much attitude as Buffy.

Anger flashed in the blonde's eyes. "She's _good_! Just because she can cast a few spells and call a bunch of slayers across the world does _not_ make her the _Wicked Witch_." Buffy argued defensively, glaring at the older hunter.

Dean scoffed and looked away, drinking his beer. _'Good' and 'witch'. Never thought I'd hear that as synonyms._ The Winchester couldn't help thinking, just finding that hard to believe. Most witches he knew abused their magic and went all murdery. You just couldn't trust them. Not to mention it sounded like this Willow chick had way too much power for her own good if you asked him.

"We haven't had good experiences with witches." Sam informed her seriously. Like Dean, he didn't look comfortable with this topic.

"Well, that's too bad. 'Cause you haven't met Wil." The small blonde said firmly, crossing her arms as she graced them with an unimpressed look.

Not fully convinced but not wanting to blow this into a huge argument, Dean let it go. "So she called you all up. She did a _'Legion, we are many'_ thing. Gotcha." The older Winchester described a little irritably. A realization hit him suddenly. "Wait. You said slayers are all girls, right? Why girls?" He broached, puzzled.

Buffy shrugged. "My world's just been like that. Girls always got the power." She remarked matter-of-factly.

Dean blinked, confused a moment, then shook his head. "So _feminism_." He summed up blandly, not particularly impressed.

Sam frowned disapprovingly. "Feminism is equality, Dean."

"Oh, _it's_ feminism." Dean reiterated with feeling, shooting his brother a meaningful look.

Buffy sighed, giving a impatient roll of her eyes. "Look, whatever you wanna call it, it's my home. And those slayers ... they're my _family_." The small blonde said srongly. "When I called them, I had to bring them all together. I _trained_ them. We're called the Slayer Organization and I'm their general." She revealed.

The older Winchester faltered, lowering his beer when he was about to take a sip. He scoffed, looking the "slayer" up and down. "You mean _you're_ the drill sergeant of a bunch of _Powerpuff Girls_?" He said pointedly, gesturing to her.

The blonde lifted her chin defiantly. "Surprised?"

Dean was incredulous. "You kidding me? That explains _everything_."

Buffy looked confused. She glanced at Sam, checking for his reaction, but his younger brother also looked unfazed. He was nodding. "You take charge. You're used to giving orders and having them followed, no questions asked. You've seen a lot of crap." Sam described matter-of-factly, expression meaningful. At the blonde's startled look, he went on. "We know the type." He said simply.

"We _know_." Dean emphasized, nodding his head as he drank his beer. No wonder Buffy always argued with him on that shifter case. She was so used to being the boss, she didn't know _how_ to act differently.

Buffy was silent, looking immersed in her thoughts. " ... So you get it now. Why I have to go back." She declared solemnly. "I didn't just leave behind my friends and my life. I left behind _them_. The slayers. Whatever crazy is going on back there or not, I still need to be there." The small blonde said with conviction. "They need _me_. I can't leave them."

There was desperate worry and fear in Buffy's eyes. Fear for them and everything she left behind.

Admiration for Buffy blossomed in Dean. Even with powers and being from a completely different world, for the first time none of that really mattered to him. She was loyal and had a sense of responsibility. She was yanked away from normal and forced to save the world when no one should've expected her to. No details were needed to know she probably lead a horrible life. Any uneasiness of her being more than human now just seemed insignificant.

"You'll be back. We'll make sure of it." Sam reassured earnestly.

Seeing Buffy with new eyes now, Dean smiled. "We'll zap you out the rabbit hole and back to Feminazi World." He joked.

Buffy smiled softly, looking dimly amused. The blonde paused, her gaze sweeping over the two of them. Deep gratitude was in her green eyes. " ... Thank you."

* * *

 **A/N:** **Aww, I love the way I ended this chapter. :3 Writing this was an interesting experience. I tried to make it follow the typical Supernatural "episode" formula with the Monster of the Week episodes and honestly I think it paid it pretty good homage. This fic has a lot of crazy plot to it, but once and while I'll throw in one those "case" chapters. It's what Supernatural was founded on, after all and tbh it's just fun writing out of place Buffy is in it. xD**

 **Writing how Buffy'd react in slaying Supernatural-style I gave a lot of thought to. Buffy is set in her ways. She has a very specific way in which she kills things and she likes her methods. So when you enter Sam and Dean, who also kill monsters but in a completely different way, it'd get under her skin. I think the way she'd see it would be "I'm the Slayer. I know how to slay. No one else should be telling me how to slay." Sam and Dean leading it with Dean bossing her around all the time when she's usually the one bossing makes it a little funny lol.**

 **This early Buffy/Dean interaction is so fun. xD I guess you could say it's kind of got a Spuffyish vibe because of the snark and Buffy's hardcore annoyance, but Dean definitely isn't Spike. His what-if interactions with Buffy have a different twist to it. For now, just enjoy how much they get to each other lol.**

 **So finally Sam and Dean find out Buffy's a slayer and some of her history. I always thought that what would create a spark of connection on Dean's part to Buffy is how young she started in fighting monsters and the huge weight on her shoulders everyone expected of her since. Dean's been there, on both sides of the tracks, and he would hate for anyone to go through that too. He feels so strongly about that that I think it would be almost impossible for him to know this and not feel kinship towards her. But remember guys. This is eventual Buffy/Dean. ;) It's not a ship that would happen overnight.**

 **Next chapter will be back to regular plot. Oh and to set the record, just because Buffy kicked most of the ass this chapter doesn't mean she always will. Just because Buffy has powers doesn't mean she needs to constantly outshine Sam and Dean. The brothers are capable enough without all that and they know how to handle themselves.**

 **NEXT CHAPTER:** Sam and Dean fully commit to helping Buffy return to her world. Dean's curiosity over Buffy takes a turn. Trouble brews for the brothers when a visit with Kevin ends in a mysterious direction, forcing Sam and Dean to bring to attention their other problems while juggling Buffy's. Desperate, the trio contacts an old friend for help ...

 _ **Thanks for the 20 favorites, 35 follows, and 14 reviews! :)**_


	5. Chapter 5: Shadowed

**A/N:** Hey readers! I'm grateful to all of those who are reading. This story is literally my baby. I **_love_** writing it and how much thought I'm putting into it's storyline so I get really excited when I see others enjoying it too. :) Now that we got Buffy's slayerness reveal to the brothers finally out of the way, Buffy's interactions with Dean and Sam are going to start shifting a bit. Not to mention the fact that this chapter is very important. There's also going to be lots of hints and foreshadowing to where it's heading so read and pay attention. ;)

Enjoy!

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy or Supernatural and take no credit for the characters or their worlds. All this is fanfic is is a fun "what-if" story. **

_**Constructive Criticism/OCCness thoughts always open! :)**_

* * *

 _Shadowed_

~~Crowley~~

A wide, unclean room spanned into direct line of vision. Gray surrounded everything, mixed only haphazardly across the walls with reddish-brown stains of paint and possibly a little more than that. Parts of the roof had cracked, landing on the floor and complimenting the broken furniture and cobwebs littering the dank space. In the shadows, four men stood with their eyes glued on him and stock-still, as if even breathing would get them killed.

Based on his mood right now, Crowley couldn't say that was that far off.

"So you're all here. My favorite, low-level stains." The crossroads demon began smoothly. "I'm sure I don't need remind you all why I've called this meeting." He remarked pointedly, raking his green eyes over his group.

A tense beat. One of the demons in a lanky, young-looking vessel with curly brown hair, raised his hand hesitantly. Crowley raised his eyebrows for him to speak. "The demons massacred searching for Lucifer's crypts, s-sir?" He stammered a bit, uneasiness stretching across the face.

Crowley smirked slightly, quelling the anger that topic often brought as of late. "Give the dog a treat." He said insincerely. " _Lucifer's crypts_. We've been tearing up the earth everywhere we can looking for what, again?" The British-sounding demon continued, mock innocence slipping into his voice.

The demons were quiet.

"What? Surely my best know?" He prompted, deceptively suave.

More fearful silence. Crowley cracked. " _THE BLOODY ANGEL TABLET!"_ He shouted, fury contorting his face.

The demons tensed, a few closing their eyes a moment. Some of the younger ones even flinched.

"Mr. Crowley. We can't possibly know what happened. We weren't the ones you sent on that mission." The oldest of demons known as James pointed out, keeping his voice low even under the severe discomfort he was experiencing.

"No, because they're dead. And the only other ones who knew about it—you strapping four—have yet to put an old piece of rock into my hands." Crowley went on with an edge, accusation rushing to the surface. "Bravo, gentlemen. Really. Nice to know I'd find better lackey material in monkeys with accordions. At least they entertain me."

"We'll try again, your Majesty. We'll commission another search—" The second demon appealed desperately.

"You couldn't even commission a clothes line. No sense of artistry." Crowley deadpanned. He straightened. "Now as much I love a good blood bath, it's compromising our _mission._ No one else knew about this. You did. Chips fall where they may."

Fear at the dark tone sprouted further in the demons. Crowley began to pace in front of them, his eyes never leaving their faces. "This is a _business_ , and incompetence rubs me in the least sexy way." He said in all seriousness, his dissatisfaction growing. He stopped pacing. "I want the Angel Tablet. I don't have it. AND THE OTHER HALF OF THE DEMON TABLET IS STILL IN THE HANDS OF THOSE _BLOODY WINCHESTERS_!" Crowley's rage resurfaced, his suave lost on a dime.

More than anything else, the constant thorn in Crowley's side that were those damned brothers enraged him most of all. Sam and Dean had not only had half of the demon tablet, but Kevin as well. They were winning. That was intolerable. He needed to turn the tables on this _now_. As useless and untrustworthy as his demons were, he wouldn't even mind doing it himself at this point. He just couldn't take it anymore.

Crowley closed in slowly on his lackeys, relishing the uncertainty in their eyes. "Maybe it was one of you who killed those demons." His gaze fixed on the first demon in front of him: the older one, his black hair slicked back. "Was it you, James? Tired of following Crowley's orders? Decided to stick it to the Big Cheese?"

James sucked in a breath, bracing himself to say something. Crowley didn't wait, turning towards the demon next to James. "Or maybe it was Ricardo. What? Tickled you aren't my favorite?" He asked half-sarcastically, voice dangerously even. He swept over them again, resting on the last one who was breathing a little heavily. The curly-haired one, who was still too young to properly endure his interrogations.

His suspicions up even further, Crowley made his way over and paused in front of him. "Or maybe it was you, Curly. Upset I didn't give you a promotion?" He inquired smoothly, though was hardly joking.

The young demon looked petrified. "N-Never, s-s-sir."

"How convincing. Try it without the studder." Crowley deadpanned.

"Sir." Someone spoke from behind him, along with the sound of a door opening. The King of Hell didn't even turn around, recognizing the deep voice of the vessel of one of his most trusted. "I need to have a word with you."

Annoyance pricked at Crowley. "I'm in a meeting."

The pointed tone wasn't enough to deter the demon. "I realize that, sir, but I have something you may want to know about it."

His irritation grew. The King was not in the mood for this. He turned around and faced the demon stiffly, who was using the vessel of a black man. "Thomas." He began, a faint edge of impatience in his voice. "I'm in the middle of a persecution. I'm _ocupado_. Come back when you aren't wasting my time." He told him dismissively, already starting to away.

"It's important, sir." Thomas insisted.

The certainty in his subject's voice aroused just a flicker of Crowley's eccentric curiosity. Mostly though he was just trying to stomach the incredible urge to urge to impale Thomas with his angel blade and torture the would-be traitors in front of him right after. Problem solved, certainly.

 _Play nice, Crowley. Tempers don't give you answers._ He told himself reasonably.

Reining in his particularly irate mood, Crowley refocused on the still nervously waiting demons in front of him. "Good talk. We'll continue this later." The British-sounding demon said, deceptively amicable.

The demons dispersed on command, their eyes holding veiled relief as they headed for the door. Thomas stepped aside for them to pass. "And remember, kiddies. Any of you trying to screw up my arrangements ... I will know about it." Crowley declared meaningfully, making sure they all heard him.

Turning back to Thomas with a deep sense of regret and irritation, Crowley walked over to him. "This better be worth it, Thomas."

Thomas was serious. "It's the Winchesters."

Crowley's mood soured further. Anger and frustration mixing with uneasiness plagued him at the thought. " _'Course_ it is. When is it _not_ those meddling, self-righteous bags of pus?" The King of Hell summed up flatly, not entirely able to hide his bitterness. "Tell me. Which hands in my cookie jar have they snuck in this time?" He asked, back to suaveness.

"It was in Kansas. A demon named Dawson making a scene, against your orders. I went to retrieve him, but Dean Winchester killed him." He began solemnly.

Crowley gave him a flat look. "Oh, really. I'm positively _weeping_." He deadpanned. Was that the "dire situation" Thomas expected him to care about? It was nothing special. Many of his demons were picked off constantly by Dean and his brother. If anything, given the circumstance in this case, Dean actually did him a favor.

"There's more, sir." Thomas responded, detecting his King's disinterest. "He was fighting with a woman, and she was unnaturally strong. She seemed more than human." The tall demon informed.

"With Dean?" Crowley said, his eyebrows flying up skeptically.

Thomas nodded. "I saw it with my own eyes. She helped him kill him."

The King of Hell absorbed this, appropriately exceeding his suspension of disbelief. Dean was a hunter in every sense of the word. That included the shameless hunter bigotry towards anything supernatural or inhuman (that is, if they weren't his pet angel). The idea of him teaming him up with something not human was laughable ... but it peaked his suspicions.

"This _Godiva_ girl ... was she one of our own?" Crowley questioned, tense despite his cool exterior. Currently he trusted none of his demon subjects. If she was a demon that went rogue, then she was probably the one that massacred his demons back at Michigan too.

"That's the strange part, sir. She wasn't a demon ... but she wasn't human either." Thomas turned very grave. "I couldn't recognize what she was. Only that she's very strong. That's why when I got away, I reported to you as soon as I could."

"Fascinating." Though Crowley's tone was bored, the gears in his mind were turning. The idea of Dean setting aside his personal baggage and fighting alongside a supernatural freak roused his curiosity, but not being able to label said supernatural freak ... that caught his attention.

"When was this?" The crossroads demon asked.

"Five days ago, sir."

 _Which is just shy of a week after my little crypt-search went up in flames._ Crowley connected the dots seriously, realizing he couldn't just take this with a grain of salt. This strange girl was a mystery and given the mystery circulating around what the buggering hell had happened with his top secret mission, he couldn't see how this was a coincidence.

"So is the Golden Girl responsible for killing off my demons and putting a crimp in my grand master plan?" Crowley said with a slight edge. He was trying to maintain a cool head, but even the idea of that fueled his anger and reminded him why he was very inclined to torture at the moment.

Thomas shook his head. "There's no solid proof, but if it could by anyone other than the Winchesters, I'd bet on her. It's too much of a coincidence." The old demon admitted. "I feel she's a threat, sir. In all my two hundred years, I've never seen a creature like her. I don't think we should turn our backs on her."

Crowley nodded slowly, a whirlwind of possibilities in his mind. "Keep an eye out for Golden Girl. I'd like to have a chat with her. And the Winchesters, of course. Given what they told me, they seem to be a thing. Where the Winchesters go, she follows." He decided, certain of it. He knew the brothers too well to expect they weren't knee-deep in this too.

Thomas nodded. "Of course." He uttered, then retreated back towards the door and slipped into the shadows.

The King of Hell stood there a moment, thoughtfully thinking over everything he transpired. He knew he had to find this strange creature. He couldn't help but feel she was at the very heart of all of his trouble securing the Angel Tablet.

Crowley smirked despite himself. "An anomaly working with the _Winchesters_ and with a grudge against demons ... I can't wait to meet her." He said with dark promise, turning on his heel and exiting out of the room with his dark coat billowing behind him.

* * *

~~Sam~~

Sam raised his eyes from his laptop. "We've looked everywhere, Dean. Not a single demonic omen since that storm. Kansas? Clean since. We checked the other states too. Nothing." The brown-haired hunter said matter-of-factly, looking at Dean in defeat.

Dean sat across him, listening. He was wearing a baby blue overshirt over a gray one, topping off his multi-layered clothing. His expression was skeptical. "What about that tornado in Des Moines?"

Sam shook his head. "Predicted on the news. Nothing freaky or supernatural about it. Besides, it's _Iowa_." The younger Winchester answered pointedly, giving him a look. Iowa was in the Midwest. It suffered from tornadoes more than most other states.

"So empty." Dean responded bitterly, leaning back in his chair with a resigned look. "First, that scene back in Michigan, a random ass storm right by bunker, and now all of sudden nada. " His older brother covered. "Let me tell you something. That freakzoid is knee-deep in all of this. I can feel it."

Sam nodded slowly. "That demon's up to _something,_ if it can betray Crowley like that." He agreed, a thoughtful frown on his face. "I can't imagine what though. I mean, what's he after that Crowley wants?" He found that genuinely worrying. Crowley was never up to anything good, but if another demon didn't want him to get to it ... it wasn't just nothing.

"No idea." Dean replied with feeling, shaking his head. Sudden agitation crossed his face. "And where the hell is Cas? It's been a week since we sent him after that thing's trail. He doesn't call, doesn't text. What, is he too busy grooming his angel wings to pick up a phone?" His older brother expressed impatiently.

Sam watched his brother carefully. " ... If he made a move, he would've told us already. Maybe he's just being thorough, Dean." He told him cautiously, wary of his response.

Dean had been particularly uptight over Castiel lately. He guessed he understood it, given the strangeness of how he left Purgatory, but he couldn't help but still give him the benefit of doubt.

Unfortunately "benefit of the doubt" was not something his big brother was well-versed in. Dean scowled. "That's no excuse. He's not even answering our calls. Would it kill him to keep us on the update once and while?" He retorted, a sharp edge to his voice.

The younger brother repressed a sigh. "Dean ... it hasn't been that long. He's probably busy. He'll check in with us when he can." Sam voiced in a calm voice. He just didn't have the same high expectations like his brother. Sure, a part of him was worried too and knew better than overlook Castiel's strange situation, but that didn't mean getting paranoid.

Of course, "Dean" and "paranoid" have become practically synonymous ever since Purgatory (Sam had not missed this). He supposed he couldn't really blame him.

The brother in question scoffed. "Right." Dean muttered, far from convinced. He paused, looking back at his younger brother with a hard look. "He should be here." The older hunter stated in finality, meaning flashing across his face.

Helpless with the situation and not wanting to upset Dean more than he already upset himself, Sam tried to divert the conversation back to the topic. "We're looking for that demon too. Not just Cas. And right now, we're not working with much." The brown-haired hunter reminded him. "Other than the demon massacre, we just got the storm and even that might've been nothing. Maybe it was just a fluke." He considered, frowning.

"It's _never_ a fluke!" Dean shot back, looking at him sharply. His green eyes filled with sternness. "We checked out the disaster area, okay? Demonic omen stink, all over the place. And after that crazy hurricane back in England ..."

"That was a year ago, Dean." Sam was uncomprehending.

"Yeah, and it was demonic omen too! Not all of us can just brush it under the rug." The older Winchester said impatiently. Sam immediately tensed. "That one back then was a bad sign, and yeah, I'm gonna play connect-the-dots. It ain't nothing and should've been looked into a long time ago." He declared with an edge, giving him a look.

Sam said nothing. Frustration channeled through the younger Winchester, but underneath it all there was just hurt and disappointment. He was so tired of the disapproval and the judgment. Dean was just so critical and he did it easily, easi _est_ when it was directed towards Sam. The worst part was Sam sometimes wasn't sure if he could blame him anymore. He hadn't done anything right last year. Was he even doing anything right now?

"I'm just considering our options." Sam said tersely, controlled frustration in his voice.

Apparently realizing he had gone too far, Dean's mood shifted. His aggressive posture relaxed. He let out a breath and shook his head, resigned regret on his face. "Sorry. I'm _sorry_. Just ... job vision." He apologized lamely, avoiding his eyes and looking distinctly uncomfortable.

 _When_ isn't _it, Dean?_ Sam thought pointedly.

He used to think a normal life was what his brother wanted too, but now he wasn't so sure. Dean was a hunter to his very core, more than Sam had ever been. Even if he tried to get out of the life, he would always come back sooner or later because that's who he was. The job just ate up too much of him. Sam knew this, no matter what Dean ever said or thought, because he knew his brother.

That was the defining knowledge that started the deep chasm between himself and Dean. Dean was meant for the hunting life. Sam wasn't.

Pangs pierced Sam. He wished his brother could understand. Understand the lull of a normal life as much as he could. He didn't though. Deep down, underneath everything else he didn't and Sam had no choice but to live with that. Memories of the quiet, mundane life with Amelia under no pressure of people's lives depending on you or chasing monsters filled him. Hurt coursed through him. Was it _so_ wrong he wanted something more than this?

Wanting nothing more than to hide the chaotic regrets swarming through his mind, Sam kept his expression impassive. "What about the Gates?" He mentioned evenly. "We got a whole new breed of demon on the loose, able to do who knows. Maybe we oughta focus more on that first."

"Except if we make Hell go out of business, then we're sending Demon Blob packing right along with them. Two birds, one stone." Dean pointed out matter-of-factly.

Sam wasn't too convinced. "I'm not too sure of that, Dean. Cas said it was _mutated_. Maybe it has some kind of immunity."

"Immunity?" Dean said, looking skeptical.

The younger hunter half-shrugged. "Could be. I mean, it's not look like we know anything about it yet."

His brother mulled that over for a quarter of a half a second. "A demon's a demon. Doesn't matter if it's a mutt." Dean answered firmly. "Kevin's prophet juices get going enough and that designer demon's gonna be out of our hair just like the rest of 'em. Why complicate it?" He reasoned unaffectedly, shrugging his shoulders.

Sam still didn't think it was so simple, but kept his doubts to himself for now. He knew he was making assumptions just as much as Dean was. "I wonder how Kevin's doing. He doesn't always answer the phone. I guess he's been busy." The younger Winchester mentioned more casually.

"Yeah, too busy cracking his skull open over that tablet." Dean recapped more cynically, dimly thoughtful. "We should probably check up on him. Garth breezes in and out. God knows we can't let him be his only company." He declared, more meaning in his voice in the last sentence.

"Yeah." Sam agreed heartily, scoffing. Being left alone with Garth too long would surely at least loosen a few screws, as oddly almost lovable the fellow hunter was. "We should head out today then. Who knows. Maybe he's got something for us."

" _Mmm-hmn_." Dean hummed agreement, suddenly looking more distracted as he glanced behind him. "And of course there's _House Bunny_ over there." He remarked wryly, a smirk touching his lips as he nodded in that direction.

Sam looked over. Buffy was visible in the Men of Letters library, standing up next to a bookshelf and reading a hardcover brown book in her hands. A few stacks of books were in sight close to her on the tables, but clearly there was more. She was dressed in a V-neck pale cream sleeveless shirt with brown khakis, her hair pulled together in a neat bun and looking very, _very_ frustrated.

Dean smirked wider. "A bombshell blonde rooming with two brothers ..." He began, turning back to Sam. "There's a porno in there somewhere." His older brother remarked only half-joking, breaking into a grin as he took a sip of his beer.

Sam scoffed, fully taking it in jest until he noticed the expression on Dean's face. Dean's grin became a smirk again and he raked his gaze up and down Buffy as best he could. He smirked more fully which was only subtly different from before but particular enough for Sam. Sam recognized _that_ look, one he had seen far too many times.

" _Seriously?"_ Sam said, achingly unimpressed.

No clarification was needed. Dean froze, then tilted his head in silent _'Yeah, I know'._ Glancing back at his younger brother and meeting his bitchface head-on, he quickly turned defensive. "She's hot, okay? Sue me." He grumbled, throwing out his hands.

The younger Winchester was not the slightest bit cowed. "Dude. You _cannot_ got there." He said in finality.

"Oh, Sammy ..." Dean began, smiling indulgently. "You start throwing around _can'ts_ and that just makes me want to do it more." He remarked lightly, throwing out his arms as he gave a amused look. Completely shameless.

Irritation coursed through Sam. " _Dean_." The younger hunter started with an edge, leaning in closer over the table. "Buffy just came from a _completely different universe_. She doesn't even know how to go home yet. The last thing she needs is sleeping with some guy!" Sam argued in exasperation, throwing out his hand.

"Or maybe that's exactly what she _does_ need, ahhh?" Dean countered triumphantly, smiling meaningfully as he pointed at him.

Disapproval radiated off Sam. "You're an idiot." He said matter-of-factly.

"Thanks for the blessing, Sammy." His older brother replied dryly, still smiling cockily.

Sam just stared at him, too incredulous to speak. He should've expected this earlier. The second Buffy gave them a reason to trust her, his brother would be all over her. Dean had no self-control whatsoever. As far as he was concerned, she was attractive so she was open game. It never ceased to astound Sam just how brazen his brother truly was.

"Buffy's not just your next hook-up, Dean. She's our _case_!" Sam berated, wishing that for just once in his life Dean could take his mind out of the gutter.

Dean waved his hand at him. " _Relax._ I got my working gloves on. We'll still send her back to whatever weird-ass world she came from." He assured, looking disgruntled. He paused, sobering. " ... We'll call over Cas again. Maybe he'll zap her back." He remarked almost reluctantly.

That slightly surprised Sam. "You think he'll show?"

Dean shook his head. "I don't know. We have to try though. We owe her that much." He said in all seriousness, his expression earnest.

Sam nodded, allowing himself to make peace with that. He knew Dean well enough to know he would not give up on making Buffy his next conquest. He'd never had with any other pretty girl and he certainly wouldn't now. That left Sam to watch more of brother's antics ... but at least they'd still get the job done.

"We should probably tell her what we're doing." The younger Winchester mentioned, flicking his eyes in the direction of the blonde hunter meaningfully.

Dean nodded, already rising to head over. Sam followed after his older brother into the library. The stacks of books were in the clear blue now. Sam noticed, with a pang of sympathy, that most of the books were ones he had gone through personally himself along with her. Buffy sat at the table, reading one intensely.

Just as Sam was about to open his mouth, Buffy slammed the book shut without even looking up, harshly in the silent bunker. Sam blinked at the action. The anger pulsing from the blonde slayer was palpable, looking she was barely keeping herself in check enough to not throw the book across the room.

"That book commit a crime?" Dean deadpanned.

Buffy raised her head, glaring. "Guilty of being useless, just like everything else." She muttered bitterly. "What kind of watchers _are_ these people?! Hours and hours of research and _nothing_. _'Unlocking mysteries of the universe'_ , my ass." She raved angrily.

Sam watched her pityingly.

Dean looked uncomprehending. " _Watchers?_ Are we supposed to know what that is?"

"They're from her world, Dean. They're similar to the Men of Letters, I guess." Sam tried to explain, gesturing with his hand. Honestly he wasn't sure he got that much either. Buffy wasn't one for elaboration. He could connect the dots though. They obviously documented a lot of information.

Dean nodded, a faint frown of his face that was quickly gone. "Well, sorry to interrupt all that helpful research, but Sam and I ... we gotta boogie."

"We have to see someone. A friend of ours." Sam elaborated.

His older brother nodded. "Don't mean to leave you hanging, but ... duties and all. We shouldn't be gone that long—"

"I need a punching bag." Buffy said curtly, abruptly standing up.

Dean blinked in surprise. "Okay, well, that's one way to keep us here." He replied quickly, caught off guard.

The blonde ignored the comment. "I need one. Something to hit. Right now." Buffy remarked almost like it was a fact, intense frustration rolling off her shoulders.

Realizing she was genuinely requesting one, Sam was just about to reply. Dean's mouth, however, always moved quicker. "Gosh, why don't you tell us how you really feel." He said dryly. After a moment, he smirked. "Y'know, if you just want someone to keep you company ..."

Instant exhaustion swamped over Sam. Was his brother serious?

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Unless that _someone's_ a punching dummy, then I think I have just about all the company I can _stand_." She answered pointedly, glaring at Dean.

Dean shrugged. "Just being chivalrous." He responded smoothly.

"Uh- _huh_." Buffy responded caustically, unconvinced. "So do you have one or not? Like a training room? I kinda need to burn this all off." She reiterated again tersely, a visible edge to her voice.

"We have one." Sam confirmed swiftly, not risking the chance of his brother making a further fool of himself. "There's a punching bag in a room last down the hall. Take a right. It's in a firing range, but—"

"Close enough." Buffy said flatly, already starting to head in that direction. She brushed past the brothers without a glance, her shoulders tense and her steps agitated. Dean turned, his eyes moving with her as he unabashedly drank in her form before settling his eyes on her ass. He smirked.

Exasperated, Sam tried to bring them back to main issue. "We have to see _Kevin_ , Dean. Remember Kevin?" He reminded him pointedly.

" _Mmm-hmn_." Dean mumbled distractedly, still glued on Buffy's retreating form. Only when the blonde was out of sight did the older Winchester snap out of it. "Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, we'll get there." He reassured, realizing what he said. He looked back in that direction thoughtfully. "In a sec." He added absently.

Sam looked at him incredulously. Dean straightened, adjusting his overshirt to his sides and looked back at his younger brother with a winning smile. No elaboration was needed. "Seriously?" He said flatly.

Dean just smiled wider. "I'm going in, brother." He announced, excited.

Before he could react, the older hunter patted him on the chest and started to head off. Sam scoffed. "Good luck." He said sarcastically as his brother passed him.

"Don't need luck, Sammy." Dean answered without looking back, a confident bounce in his step as he followed the direction Buffy went.

Sam chuckled and shook his head. As much he couldn't agree with Dean's methods, he had to admit at times they were entertaining. _I better go get our gear ready for the trip. 'Cause something tells me Dean's going to be back a lot sooner than he thinks._

* * *

~~Buffy~~

Emotion blinded Buffy. The black punching bag bounced to and fro and with each time it came back, the blonde slayer assaulted it more furiously. Her frustration was finally boiling over, barely controlled. It's been six days. Six days, only a day away from a whole week and she was about as empty-handed as the day she arrived here.

She scanned through every file and book the brothers had and no such luck unless you were looking for _nothing._ Buffy knew this and yet she continued to keep reading them, always holding out hope she missed something. There was no witches she could go to for help and she had nothing. She couldn't accept nothing. She couldn't _deal_ with nothing. Everything in this world sickened her, right down to air she was breathing. It only served as reminder at how far from home she really was.

Buffy hit the punching bag harshly. It swished brutally behind her as the blonde pivoted around on her heel, starting up an angry pace. _This whole thing is just pure torture. I can't even send them an email. 'Hey guys, just so you know I'm alive! Trapped in an alternate universe, but with the living!' How are they supposed to know what happened to me?_

Willow had been there when was she was taken. Buffy trusted her friend to be smart enough to know she hadn't been vaporized, but sucked in a portal. But there were about a gajillion kinds of hell dimensions and alternate universes so they'd check out a million other options first before being on anything even remotely resembling a track.

This was a particularly colorful laundry list that was not going away anytime soon.

Buffy huffed, standing still as she scowled. She did not want to depend on her friends to get her out of this pickle. They were the ones that were supposed to depend on _her_. Them and the slayers. Buffy knew her and friends hadn't been particularly close lately and the slayers were evolving more rapidly every day, but they needed her to keep them together ... or still on some level at least, right?

The blonde slayer's anger abated, receding by a flood of doubt. Gunshots and bodies of girls flickered out from memories she could never wash clean, followed by disconnected conversations with her friends, the empty mental room ward in the castle, and Dawn's ire-soaked words in their last conversation. A pang hit Buffy. They _did_ need her. Didn't they?

Too scared to answer that even within herself, the slayer shook it off. _Whatever's gone back at the base ... I just hope they're okay. Not running around like chickens with their heads cut off ... literally and figuratively._ Buffy thought, in midst of her less than stellar relationships truly meaning that.

Dawn particularly harried her mental state. The younger Summers woman may be bratty and a thorn in her side she never quite plucked out, but she was still family. They were on the outs and after the way she had spoken to her Buffy wouldn't be surprised if her sister never wanted to see her again, but she couldn't bear if anything happened to her. She was all she had now, in so many more ways than one.

It didn't take much longer for her grief and worry to fuel the flames of her frustration yet again. Buffy cursed whoever (or _whatever_ ) brought her to this world for no good reason other than to screw with her. She wasn't entirely sure that's why this happened, but that's how it felt and that was good enough for her.

Buffy liked to believe she could handle a lot. A new Big Bad? Been there, done that. No biggie. Getting transporting to an alternate universe? A little more on the David Lynch side, but she's seen worse. New vampires and new demons? Not exactly her comfort zone, but her comfort zone's been a non-issue for years anyhow. But being _trapped_ , no leads _and_ no explanation? Forget it. There's only so much she can stand. Eventually you've just sufficiently pissed off the wrong slayer.

Buffy whipped around and lashed out a hard kick at the punching bag, channeling all her defiance and rage in that one strike. There was a snap. The punching bag hit the ground a couple feet away with a noticeable thud, it's silver chain still partially hanging from the ceiling. Oops.

"Easy there, _Supergirl_."

The blonde slayer stiffened, glancing over her shoulder.

Dean was standing close to the doorway, looking a little less than impressed. "You break anything, you buy it. We ain't that rich."

Buffy looked away with a roll of her eyes. "What part of my own company did not understand?" She grumbled.

"You have a real attitude problem, you know that?" The hunter remarked flatly, shaking his head. To her chagrin but complete lack of surprise, the Winchester uncaringly walked over to her.

The blonde refused to take that comment lying down. "Not really. Just an invasion of privacy." Buffy answered back smoothly, her arms crossed.

Dean smirked. Actually smirked. Why was it her snark just rolled right off him like water? "Well, this isn't your place so good luck with that. " The hunter reminded her, looking genuinely amused.

Buffy gave him a hard stare. She wished he could just tell her why he was here because she couldn't see one single reason why. Didn't he have to go somewhere with his brother? Shouldn't he be doing that instead? That had her vote.

She didn't hate Dean. As annoying as he could be, she really didn't. She just didn't get him. He bossed her around during their whole first slay together, for days he gauged every move she made or avoided her altogether and just yesterday accused her of not being human. Yet here he was, smiling and she swore earlier had flirted with her. She just wanted Dean to make up his mind. Mixed signals everywhere.

"Anyway. Just to finish the heads up. Me and Sam gotta go catch up with a mathlete." Dean informed her, jerking his thumb to the hallway for emphasis.

And he came all this way to tell her _that_? She doubted it.

"Giving him moral support for the _Academic Decathlon_?" Buffy asked dryly.

"God no." The Winchester said with feeling, looking daunted at that idea. "He's our prophet."

The blonde slayer's disinterest lifted somewhat. "Prophet? Do you mean like a seer?" Buffy had wanted Dean to leave and be by herself again, yes. But you know. Curiosity killed the cat and all.

"Not exactly. Sounds like that on paper, but ... it's a lot more of a bitch and not nearly as convenient. His name's Kevin. He got handed down a bunch of old tablets and has been translating them for us. Word of God and all that." The hunter's voice couldn't have been more casual if he was talking about what he ate for breakfast.

Buffy stared at him strangely. "Word of God as in ...?" She trailed away, raising her brow.

Dean still didn't seem uncomfortable. "Word of God."

The small blonde's gaze widened even further. " ... You mean ' _God'_ God?" The slayer said in disbelief.

He nodded. "The Big G. Not that you can tell that much." Dean told her, a slight edge to his voice towards the end.

"God _exists_?" Buffy exclaimed incredulously.

She never thought much about religion since she became The Slayer. She supposed she tilted more on the atheist side, sometimes agnostic if she was feeling gracious, but that was only if you wanted labels. Buffy had just never had much stock in higher powers. The Powers That Be were the only higher power she knew of and she wasn't exactly warm and cozy with them either.

"Unfortunately. And angels. Another holy present."

If Buffy's mind had been clear, she would've picked up on the distaste in Dean's voice. She was too busy struggling to handle this bombshell. "God and angels ... they're all real?" Buffy prodded again, still uncomprehending.

The hunter shrugged. "Well, here at least. Your world, probably not."

 _Stupid! You're in a different universe, remember? Things are different!_ The slayer berated herself, embarrassed at her train of thought. Sometimes she felt very blonde. On the other hand though, relief wasn't far. This wasn't her world so she didn't have to have a religious crisis and question her whole life. At least she had _that_ comforting thought.

Buffy relaxed. No need getting worked up over something that didn't apply to you, right? "Where I come from, we have a heavenly dimension thing too for a higher power. They're called the Powers That Be." The small slayer shared.

Dean snorted. "What, did they steal that name from Walt Disney?" The Winchester sneered.

Buffy smiled. " ... Or the Grimm brothers. There's a big rumor about it." She answered lightly, not quite joking. The blonde always did think Powers That Be sounded a little too cliché.

The hunter shook his head, amusement in his eyes. "Your universe is one tall glass of crazy."

The blonde half-shrugged. She would never disagree with that. "Your world isn't exactly a sanity case either." Buffy countered just as pointedly.

Dean tilted his head in easy agreement, looking markedly unoffended. Apparently he didn't have a much positive outlook on his universe any better than she did hers.

"So this Kevin person ... why do you need him to translate a couple tablets?" She questioned, purely out of curiosity. Buffy figured with the background Dean was giving, it was something important. She was still upset over her situation, but the direction this conversation was going sparked some of her interest.

The Winchester paused, sobering. " ... It's called a Demon Tablet. You translate that puppy right and it'll close the gates of Hell forever. No more demons, no more fuss. Hell, it's a hunter's dream." Dean explained, meaning slipping in his voice.

Buffy listened with a strange disconnection "Handy." She deadpanned, her eyes lowered. "I wouldn't mind something like that in my world. Sending them back to the hell dimension they came from forever ... well, that's just one less problem." She said quietly, her expression distant.

She felt oddly envious. She really hated Dean and Sam's universe, but at least they had emergency insurance. Buffy would give anything to rid her world of demons. The bad ones anyway. It would be one step closer to a normal life.

Silly how ten years of this and that ideal still lingered in her mind. There would still be vampires. It'd never be over.

Dean studied her, his expression softening. " ... You came on our doorstep when we had a lot on our plates." The hunter admitted, apologetic but honest. "But you're not our first curveball. We'll still find a way to send you back. It sounds like your world needs you."

 _Not nearly enough._ Buffy thought, the pit in her stomach returning as she remembered Dana, the slayers, and the government manhunt. All she did was get them hurt. And when she wasn't flogging over _that_ , the other half was spent thinking they were a burden or how much she wished she up and left them to join Angel and Spike on the march to their deaths.

Guilt wormed in her. She wasn't a real leader to them. A real leader wouldn't be so selfish or so prone to poor decisions. Buffy just didn't see how she deserved them.

Buffy let a out a deep breath. "It's just ... hard. Being away." She spoke lamely, doing absolutely everything to suppress her guilt. She would not break down in front of a stranger. "I can't send an S.O.S. I don't have a lead. I don't know if my sister, my friends, or the slayers are alright. I don't know anything." Bringing her worry to the surface on that front was not too difficult. "I just hate feeling like I'm doing nothing."

Dean stared at her intently. " ... You have a sister?" He asked quietly.

Buffy nodded, raising her head. "Her name's Dawn."

Again, the Winchester paused. He had solemn look on his face. " ... Younger or older?" He pressed, his voice holding a strange meaning to it.

"Younger. She's nineteen. She lives with me back at Scotland." At least recently, making her drop out of a college and hide out with her in Europe for "protection". Which, yet again, was entirely on Buffy.

Pain twisted in the slayer. Talking about Dawn made her ache and not entirely out of worry. Buffy deeply regretted the terms her and her sister had left things before she came here. If she could see her now, she'd take back everything she said to Dawn in an instant.

Dean nodded, though said nothing. He settled on watching her, unreadable thoughts flickering back and forth in those green orbs. " ... It sounds like you have a lot of responsibility on your shoulders." He observed, his tone nearly as hard to place as his expression.

Buffy let a tired breath, shaking her head with her hands on her hips. " ... You have _no_ idea." She said in bone-aching weariness.

These past three years have been rough. She felt so much older than twenty-five. People her age were partying, going to college, getting married or starting a family. She'd take those mundane, more carefree aspects of life over this nightmare any day.

The blonde startled out her thoughts. Dean was walking closer towards her, stopping when they was just a foot apart. The hunter was solemn. "I'm sorry. I don't need a play-by-play to know you probably go through hell. But you'll see home again ... and your sister. And you aren't gonna do it alone."

Buffy stared, just as shocked as she was touched. Dean always seemed so ... prickly. Like he had a problem with everything and everyone with _serious_ trust issues. He seemed only focused on the job, nothing more. He hadn't been nice to her in the slightest when they first met. First impressions stuck. She hadn't really expected more than that. Yet here Dean was, standing over her and looking earnest. The compassion in his eyes was real.

Buffy smiled. " ... All this from a figment?" She joked, unable to resist.

Some of the empathy died then. Dean scowled, not saying anything a moment as he looked at her incredulously. "Really? _Now_?"

The blonde slayer choked back a laugh, shaking her head with a widening smile. Yep. Mr. Prickly, right on cue. It was alright though. At least she knew now Dean wasn't a complete hard-ass, though he played that role perfectly. Maybe she could even learn to get along with him now.

Dean shook his head, though he didn't look quite as irritated as before and turned to leave. He hadn't gotten more than a few steps before the hunter stopped suddenly. He stood there a moment or two, his back still turned to her. Buffy quirked a questioning brow.

Then he turned around. His expression was almost calculating, which was an odd way to describe it, but it shifted immediately into a nonchalant one. "You know what you need? Something to get your mind off things. What _you_ need ..." Dean walked back over to her confidently, stopping in front of her. " ... is _fun_."

 _Fun?_ Buffy very nearly laughed. Unless "fun" involved a one-way ticket back to her universe, then she was pretty sure that was the last thing she needed. She shook her head. "Fun and me don't get along. Major clashing." She said amusedly.

Dean smirked. "Well, good thing you found the remedy. I got a _Ph.D._ in fun." He stated meaningfully. The hunter stepped closer to her and this time he was threatening personal space boundaries. "Why don't we go out for a drink? Play a little pool. See where the night takes us." Dean's voice was a smooth as a snake.

 _Did he just ask me out on date?_ Buffy thought in disbelief, the shock like getting drenched in ice-water. Did Dean Winchester, a guy she barely knew and seemed to practically hate her guts a few days ago, _legitimately_ ask her out on a _date_? More importantly, was that his actual "version" of a date? Cheap bars?

Since Buffy temporarily forgot how to speak English, Dean was more than happy to keep going. "I'll, uh ... work out your kinks." He said, his tone of voice having a strange ring to it. This time his smirk became more wicked and his eyes raked openly down her body, leaving very little to the imagination.

Sex. Not a date. That was what he was propositioning. Dark confusion cloud gone.

Buffy couldn't say, however, she was any less stunned. Dean wasn't even bothering to sugarcoat his intentions. Out of the all men she's been with, not one of them had ever been that candid. Not even Spike had been that bold. It was refreshingly straightforward ... and a little disconcerting.

Okay. She'll admit it. Dean was attract—gorgeous. Not to mention he was the _older_ kind of gorgeous, which always had an appeal to her. After too many sexless years in Girltown, his offer was embarrassingly tempting. If Buffy listened strictly to her libido, then she would have no qualms at all. However, qualms were important. It kept you from being stupid and if _anyone_ knew that from experience, it was her.

"No." Buffy said bluntly, expression flat.

"No?" Dean looked like he thought he misheard her.

"No going out. No unkinking. Anything else?" The blonde slayer went on, her tone completely no nonsense.

Just because she was attracted to Dean did not mean she was going to throw herself at him. She was _so_ not boinking a guy she just met and more importantly, she _refused_ to "have fun" when she had a mission to do.

Dean frowned deeply. He looked distinctly surprised. Apparently he was only used to women drooling all over him, not turning him down. Buffy smirked, feeling quite proud of herself. Four years of repressed sexual frustration and she still had her standards.

Having said what she needed, the small blonde elected for a much more comfortable option of conversation (for _her_ , at least). "Are you and Sam about to go see Kevin?"

The change of topic also startled Dean. He sobered immediately though, staring at her through slightly narrowed eyes. "... Maybe." The hunter answered warily, committing to nothing.

Meaning yes. "I wanna go with." Buffy told him evenly. She could get over the fact Dean hit on her. He certainly wasn't the first guy she had to beat off. She still didn't mind working with him, as long as he didn't keep it up and kept his hands off.

 _"Why?"_ The Winchester objected, skepticism in his eyes. "I mean, I'd think with all the crap you're stewing in, you'd rather be doing our own thing, not dealing with ours."

Buffy let out a breath. Normally, yes, she had every intention of that. But now ... "Whatever answers I need, this place doesn't have it. And I can't just _wish_ them here. So in the meantime, I guess I can do a little charity work." The blonde slayer justified, looking at Dean steadily. "All you guys have done is help me. So I need to help you."

Dean regarded her thoughtfully for a moment or two. " ... You'd have to owe me that drink." The hunter said pointedly, giving her a meaningful look

Her soured sincerity was immediate. Buffy graced with Dean with a heavily unimpressed expression. The Winchester was stubborn though, set on his ground rules. With a roll of her eyes, she started to leave the firing range. "Don't push it, Hugh Hefner." She muttered feelingly as she passed him, giving him a wry glance.

To Dean's credit, he followed her out without another complaint.

* * *

~~Dean~~

Dean watched as the Impala came in sight parked on the edge of woodened area, just outside the Men of Letters bunker. It was sunnier than it had been the past couple days and the daylight was bright, indicating early noon. Buffy was bunched in between him and Sam, their steps matching as they headed for the car.

Turns out Buffy was going through with meeting Kevin (Dean, with a pang, couldn't say that same about his drink offer). Sam had been okay with it, if not a little surprised but explained further on Kevin's situation with the demons and hunt for him and the tablet as well as progress so far. Dean didn't see why Buffy had to know everything, but Buffy had taken it all with solemn understanding and more raring to go than ever.

The two brothers slowed as they got closer to the car. Buffy didn't break stride, heading for the backseat.

Dean was going to go for the respective driver's seat when Sam sounded close to his ear. "So. Did you get lucky?" His younger brother said in a low tone, the amusement in his voice indicating he knew the answer.

Dean was distinctly uncomfortable. He tried not to show it though. "She's just playing hard to get." The older hunter responded smoothly as he gestured with his hand, years worth of smokescreens aiding him in sounding just confident enough in just the right way.

His brother chuckled quietly. "Yeah, right. Of _course_." He said sardonically, shaking his head.

Dean shot Sam a look. Buffy may have rejected him, but she'd come around eventually. He just had to up his game a little more than usual. It wasn't his typical situation, but who was Dean to ignore a challenge?

He had to admit though. The blonde slayer had definitely caught him off guard. Usually Dean charmed a few pretty girls in single conversations, maybe a couple more at most. He'd known Buffy for maybe about a week and seduced women not even a fraction of that time. That's what Dean did. He was _good_ at that. Somehow the sexy blonde tested that fact.

All naughty thoughts aside though, Dean's conversation with Buffy had been very revealing. She thought about her friends and family every second she was here. It was obvious she loved them and hated being ripped away from them. What made it the double whammy was that it wasn't just that. She felt _responsible_.

The Winchester become more solemn at this recollection. He couldn't block out the look in her eyes. It had been defeated and borderline haunted, topped off with a jaded kind of weariness. It was the look Dean had seen before on himself and Sam and countless other hunters: knee-deep in the life and having too much awful memories to show for it. Alternate universe or not, it still left behind the same mark.

Dean wanted to help her. After their talk, he only felt more compelled to. The only problem was Buffy was right. There wasn't anything here for her in the bunker. They'd have to get their feelers out further, but he wasn't sure where to start.

No ... no, that wasn't entirely true either. He had an idea on where to start. He just wished it wasn't one.

 _Cas is an angel. He zapped me across time before. Maybe he could send Buffy back, if it has that kind of mojo._ Dean reasoned reluctantly.

His feelings were appropriately mixed. Why did he have to bring Cas into this? Dean still had no idea what was so off with his best friend. He didn't know if he was in trouble or if he's stabbing him in the back again or if he just cracked. If he couldn't even trust Castiel on a friend basis right now, how could he trust him enough to bring him into Buffy's problems?

Weariness pierced Dean. God, how he hated his thinking process on all things Cas nowadays. He missed the days they were closer and he knew he could count on him for anything. Ever since Castiel went power-drunk and let out the Leviathans, things between them were never quite the same. Now he felt like he was about to be let down again and he was just so damn sick of it. As far as his relationships went, Dean had been let down enough. Story of his life.

Dean desperately tried to put aside his inner turmoil. It wasn't about him. It was about helping Buffy and as far as the Winchester was concerned, in that area Castiel was in the gray too. He didn't want to risk dragging Buffy into more of Castiel's lies. There had be to a better option for her.

Dean only hoped that was true. If it wasn't ... they might really be screwed.

* * *

~~Buffy~~

Buffy stood rigid, her eyes saucers as she filtered in the sight of the long, simple-looking gray boathouse not too far from the road. Disbelief tainted her mood and she frowned deeply. "Kevin's little hideaway is a big boat?" She said incredulously.

"It belongs to a friend of ours, Garth. He's supposed to be watching him, but he comes and goes. That's why we're here." Sam explained. At Buffy's still furrowed brow, the brown-haired hunter shrugged. "I get it. It's weird, but ..." He acknowledged with a nod, trailing away as he threw out his arms.

"But it's Garth." Dean pointed out, crisply matter-of-fact.

"Oh, well, that just explains everything." Buffy couldn't help the snarky comment.

"Trust me. It would if you knew him." Sam insisted, giving a look that left little room for doubt.

Curiosity stirred in the blonde slayer. She wondered what Garth was like.

That fleeting thought was tossed aside when the brothers started walking up towards the safehouse boat and she was forced to follow them. Sam and Dean obviously knew the area well, maneuvering around the boat and picking their way over easily. Dean pulled a spare key out once he found the door, jamming it in and entering.

If Buffy had thought the outside didn't look appealing, then the inside was worse. It was crowded and cluttered, not helping the already small size of the safehouse which seemed to only have a few rooms. It had a stove and a table for eating, but with the space of the place it still wasn't too homey. She didn't see anyone in plain view.

"Kevin?" Sam called, stepping ahead as he looked around. "It's us."

No answer. Buffy sensed the brothers get tenser and she wasn't far behind them. They moved through the safehouse more cautiously. Sam and Dean both took out their guns which she was beginning to think were perpetually stapled to their bodies. Notes covered parts of the walls, containing words nothing to do with warnings or any normal message for them. Buffy caught this with wary curiosity.

Retching sounds broke the quiet. It was coming from a room and as they headed over, she saw the door titled "N 2Rt stb". Dean, still armed with his gun, opened the door first and gave them a look inside.

An Asian teenager, probably around eighteen or so, was keeling over a toilet and vomiting so hard you'd think he'd cough up a lung. His black hair was sweaty, matted, and severely unbrushed, hanging over his forehead. He was dressed in dirty white shirt over a peach-colored overshirt in jeans, neither of which looked washed or clean. When he spared a glance at the doorway, she saw he was pale and had dark circles under his eyes she knew all too well.

The sight shocked Buffy so much she registered all of that in an instant. That instant was all it took though for the teenager to be back at the toilet again, not caring about the witnesses.

"Found him." Dean said flatly, lowering his gun with a grimace.

Sam looked grim. "Buffy. Meet Kevin."

 _ **####**_

It took some time for Kevin to stop vomiting, let alone even start speaking. Sam and Dean waited for him directly outside the bathroom and by the time it stopped, they helped haul him out before situating him at the table. Buffy sort of floundered in the back, feeling awkward given how there hadn't been actual introductions yet.

Dean and Sam stood in front of Kevin, looking him up and down with a critical eye. The teenager was wiping his nose with a tissue. Buffy decided to walk over at this point, but still somewhat hid behind the brothers.

"You look like hammered crap." Dean, always the poet.

Normally Buffy would roll her eyes at the rudeness, but she had to say she really agreed with him. The boy looked awful. He was bedraggled and worn. He didn't smell too fresh either. He was sweaty and pale, telltale signs of fever. Concern plagued Buffy. _What's he been doing to get him like this?_

Apparently Kevin didn't have too much trouble with Dean's words either. He nodded, wiping his bloody nose. "Yeah." He acknowledged, his voice high and abnormally nasally. If she hadn't thought he was sick before, she knew now.

"How you been _sleeping_?" Sam asked with crossed arms, looking at him pointedly.

"Not really." Kevin said matter-of-factly, setting the bloody tissue on the table.

"Eating?" Dean prompted with an almost stern frown.

The young man paused, looking distinctively uncomfortable. "Hot dogs, mostly." He said lamely. Dean made a face at this, but before he could say anything Kevin peered past him. "Who's she?" He nodded his head at Buffy.

Buffy moved to stand beside the brothers, giving Kevin a better look at her. "I'm a friend. My name's Buffy." She introduced, presenting herself earnestly. "I'm, uh ..." The small blonde trailed away, wondering if she should say she was a slayer or not. Experience told her not too many people responded happily to that.

On the other hand, experience _also_ told her that keeping that a secret was even worse. Look no further than her current company.

"I'm a slayer." Buffy said just slightly hesitantly, bracing herself for the flood of questions no doubt coming.

Kevin looked confused. "Slayer?"

"Basically a hunter with superpowers." Dean described matter-of-factly, gesturing to Buffy and looking markedly unaffected by his own statement. Given his earlier discomfort over that, that was actually impressive.

The small blonde quickly stepped back in. "Just a little extra strength and speed healing. But I'm not a monster. I'm a ... different kind of hunter, I guess." She explained a little uncomfortably.

Buffy didn't like the term "hunter". It was irrational and a pathological thing on all levels, but when it rolled from her tongue it made her feel like she was saying she killed for sport. Not that the brothers killed for sport (she didn't think), but it was how she felt. "Slayer" sounded like it carried a lot more nobility to her.

Kevin stared at them blankly. " ... So first demons and now there's a race of super hunters." He summed up, practically no inflection in his voice. He shook his head. "Cool." He added flatly, throwing his bloody tissue into a wastebasket.

The blonde frowned at the subdued reaction. It was also a _lot_ more complicated than that. _But I'm not gonna get into the whole 'down-the-rabbit-hole' thingy. I mean, there's only so much you can take, right?_ She thought nervously. This kid did not look in any state to deal with that bomb. Better just to leave the watered down version.

"Actually, there's not. Not here anyway." Buffy's heart slowly started sinking as she heard Dean's crisp, casual voice. He gestured to her again. "Buffy here's from, uh, ... somewhere over the rainbow." The older hunter said dryly with a smile, chuckling at his joke.

Kevin frowned fractionally. Resignation shot through Buffy as she braced herself for the inevitable circus freak treatment she was about to get in a couple minutes (thanks to Dean and his big mouth, she thought with a pinch of resentment and a little sympathy for Kevin).

Sam looked as uncomfortable as she felt. "She's, uh ... from a alternate universe?" The younger brother offered, throwing out his hand and sounding awfully awkward. She felt him spiritually right there.

The young boy just stared at them blankly a long moment. He didn't move a muscle or even blink.

The lack of reaction made Buffy nervous. "It's true. I'm from somewhere ... _not_ here." She confirmed, her brows scrunching together. Then her eyes widened. "N-N-Not that I'm gonna go all _Ori_ on you or anything." She added hastily, waving her hands around.

The second she picked up on her reference, the second horror swept over her. Nerd vomit, nerd vomit, nerd vomit. Buffy straightened, trying to look casual, all the while thinking angry thoughts alternating blame between Xander and Andrew and then finally resting on Andrew because did she really need to explain?

Kevin still didn't twitch a muscle, but his dark gaze looked to the brothers in very faint disbelief. Dean shrugged. "She fell through a _Stargate_. We haven't found it yet." While his tone was nonchalant, he looked sinfully amused.

More embarrassment burned through her, sharpened by annoyance. Buffy couldn't help thinking (and with no love lost) Dean would probably get along with Xander _very_ well.

The teenager stared numbly. " ... I hate you guys." He finally said with feeling, fixed on the brothers exhaustedly.

Sam and Dean stood there awkwardly a second, their heads lowered and their eyes avoiding. Buffy stared at Kevin, surprised at the very underwhelming response, but found herself grateful.

"So, uh, Kevin ... where's Garth?" Sam asked, his voice sounding a little too casual.

"Gone. On a hunt, I think." The teenager replied in disinterest, ripping off part of another tissue and plugging it up one of his nostrils as he started bleeding again.

Buffy frowned. " ... Are you okay?" She asked carefully, trying not to sound as concerned as she felt. She _really_ hoped this teen had seen better days.

Kevin sniffed, then raised his head to look at her. "Not really. I've been getting real bad headaches and nosebleeds, and I think maybe I had a small stroke." He explained in amazing matter-of-factness, startling the slayer. He looked over at the brothers. " _But_ I'm still working on the tablet for you guys so you're welcome." He remarked more sharply, just as Dean opened his mouth. He closed it then.

"So ...?" Sam prompted, throwing out his arms as he looked at him pointedly.

The young boy looked apologetic. "Nothing about the gates so far. I swear I've been translating it this whole time, but most of it's just a lot of excess. Not to mention ..." He broke off with a firm shake of his head. "Never mind."

"What?" Dean said tersely.

Kevin hesitated, his dark eyes troubled. " ... It's the tablet break. I think it might not have all the information."

"We don't have a way to close the gates?!" Dean responded in outrage.

"Whoa. Chill." Kevin replied, waving his hand calmingly. "I said ' _think'_. There's still a couple texts to work out. I don't know. Maybe I'll find something." He offered, not sounding as optimistic as he should've.

"That's what you said last week, man!" The older Winchester reminded him, throwing out his arms as his expression twisted in frustration. "You either do or you don't. Just give us a chess piece." He said impatiently.

The teenager narrowed his eyes. "Hey. I've been busting my _ass_ for you guys. On three friggin' hours of sleep. Every day. I feel like I got run over by a bulldozer. And guess what? I'm _still_ doing this crap." The black-haired boy retorted, his tone acidic. "I still got more to go through. I get there when I get there, okay?"

Buffy listened to this with a growing amount of sympathy. Kevin's sleep schedule had basically been her own sleep schedule just shy of a couple weeks ago and she still remembered that dead feeling all too well. This guy looked even worse than _she_ had.

Dean was still tense, frustration at war with apology on his face. He shook his head and started to pace restlessly, his hands on his hips.

Sam had his eyes still trained on Kevin. "Do you at least have a idea for us?"

Kevin paused, calming again. Dean stopped pacing, glancing at him the corner of his eyes. " ... It's probably not on there." He admitted gravely. Disappointment fell on Sam's face and Dean gave a massive roll of his eyes. " _Probably_. No guarantees." Kevin clarified quickly, throwing out his hands.

"Yeah. _Real_ vote of confidence." Dean grumbled, a bitterness to his voice. He shook his head, starting back up his pacing. "This is all Crowley's fault. I swear, the second I get my knife in that _dick_ ..." He trailed away meaningfully, doing a stabbing gesture as his face screwed up in dark promise.

 _Crowley?_ Buffy frowned slightly. Wasn't that the name she heard back when she first fought the demons here? They said something about "giving her to Crowley", like he was their boss. And apparently ... she was interesting enough to not be wanted dead on the spot. Because of Crowley.

Sudden unease rippled across the slayer's skin. Based on Dean's words, she got a feeling Crowley was not someone who you wanted to draw his attention.

Sam was shaking his head. "We don't know anything yet, Dean. Just let Kevin keep translating."

Dean finally stood in place again. He crossed his arms and sighed, his expression a cross between a scowl and deep thoughtfulness. Kevin rose from the chair, leaving the table wordlessly and heading for his bedroom. Kevin came back carrying something gray and heavy-looking in his hands.

The brothers straightened immediately, more alertness in their eyes as the teenager headed their way. He sat back down in the chair, setting the gray slab of stone in the middle of the table. Sam and Dean immediately clustered around it. Buffy echoed this more slowly.

Pushing between the brothers, she caught a better look of what she had a feeling was this famous tablet. It was encrypted with several kinds of symbols Buffy couldn't begin to understand. It looked overall smooth to the touch until the end of it when there was a sudden, jagged break, as if it had been split in half.

Buffy knew several things at glance. It was obviously decoded in some kind of ancient language and she'd been around Giles enough to know what that meant: magical object. Not only that, but Buffy could almost the power radiating of it. It was old and very, very important. No explanations needed there.

The small blonde frowned. "The lettering is all squiggles." She observed curiously.

"It's in Enochian." Kevin explained without looking up from the tablet, holding it in his hands.

"Angel speak." Sam clarified, noticing Buffy's blank look. "It's the language the angels normally use. Good luck ever trying to learn it though."

It took a moment for her to wrap her head around that. Then she remembered. _Right. Angels exist in this world._ She thought, quickly shaking the innate foreignness she felt every time they started spouting off stuff about "god" or "angels". It wasn't her home.

"Ancient languages ..." Buffy muttered in distaste, shaking her head as she gave the tablet a scrutinizing stare. "I wish my friend Giles was here. He gets a happy every time you so much as _mention_ an old language. He's like a stuffy, British _Rain Man_."

A ache hit Buffy behind the snide comment. She really _did_ wish her watcher was here. Giles would know what to do to about her universe displacement. Maybe even find out who brought her here or why. But he wasn't here. She was on her own.

Kevin shrugged. "Not like it would've made much of a difference anyway. Only the prophet can translate this. I'm the prophet." The black-haired boy explained, a note of resignation in his voice.

 _Just him?_ Buffy thought in disbelief. She stared at the boy hard. This one teenager, who didn't look much older than Dawn right now, was responsible for the complete encryption of a tablet sending all these demons back to Hell? Every single one of them, currently free and terrorizing people?

 _Oh my god. That's ... that's way too much._ Waves of sympathy sparked out of the blonde slayer. To take on that much responsibility at an age like that was unreal. He clearly was taken a toll too, given Kevin's appearance. Bittersweet understanding squeezed her heart. This boy was just like her.

"Anyway, yeah basically getting anything on the gates has been drawing blanks. But I think I did find a little something." The teenager brought up suddenly, narrowing his eyes slightly as she started to trace his fingers down the tablet.

Dean looked immediately alert again. "What is it?"

Kevin raised his head to look up at them. "I'm not that sure what it means. It's more like a ... phrase or something." He described uncertainly, shaking his head a little.

"Anything's good." Sam said, his arms crossed.

"It's scribbled. Took me a while to get anything out of it, but I think ... Here's what it says. " Kevin trailed away, pulling the tablet closer to him while his hands framed a certain group of hieroglyphics towards the end. " _Rise of ... fiends and the dark commander, let there be black. Twilight will come from the lost, the pariah, and the fallen."_ Kevin's voice was slow and deliberate, every word forced out with strain.

Buffy listened with rapidly growing uneasiness. The familiar timbre and wording hit the blonde right where it hurt. The claws of dread gripped her heart. Suddenly she found herself wishing she heard none of what she just heard.

"Well, that can't be good." Dean remarked. His mouth was set in a grim line and looked several degrees tenser.

Kevin looked helpless. "I don't know what it means. And the way it reads ... it's weird. It's harder to translate than the rest, like it was just added last minute or something." The black-haired prophet elaborated. He shook his head. "I think it's some kind of a message."

Everything sunk in for the slayer. " ... It's a prophecy." Buffy said quietly.

Three heads swiveled in her direction. Silence a moment.

"What?" Dean said.

"A _prophecy_?" Sam repeated incredulously, frowning.

Buffy looked them directly in the eye. "The theatrics, the cryptic. It's a prophecy." She reaffirmed, her voice stronger now.

Kevin nodded gravely. "That's what it looks like. Sorry, guys." He agreed, glancing back at the brothers uncomfortably.

Dean let out an exasperated breath. "Well, that's great. Just great." He muttered, shaking his head as immense exasperation crossed his face. "Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? Hallmark's Crappiest, Cromag Edition." He went on sarcastically.

Buffy was troubled. "I've been around a million other prophecies before. Enough to know that when you those magic words are getting tossed around, you and the rest of the world is about to get screwed over. _Majorly_." She said with feeling, undeniably certain.

Flashbacks of apocalypses and all the prophecies (specifically the ones ending in her death) roared to the surface. Even when you found catches in the prophecies, you still never came out completely unscathed. Worry for the brothers and their world plagued her. This was not going to end well.

 _The more things change, the more things stay the same._ The small blonde reflected cynically. Maybe her world and the Winchesters' world weren't so different after all.

"Don't need to be an expert to know that, Goldilocks." Dean responded in pointed but hearty agreement. He started up his pacing again.

"I haven't gotten more out of it, but I'll keep trying." Kevin promised, nodding.

Buffy frankly doubted Kevin would get any more other than what it already had. She kept her skepticism to herself though. Buffy couldn't very well blame the teenager for trying.

" _You_ do that." Dean replied pointedly, his tone more an order than an agreement.

"Uh, Kevin, do have a pen and paper so we can write this down?" Sam inquired practically.

Kevin nodded and moved away from the table to a corner in the back. He came back with a notepad and a pen. Sam gave his thanks and as the young boy started repeating the prophecy again, began writing it determinedly. Dean ceased pacing, watching with a prominent scowl.

"Dark commander, twilight, darkness." Dean was muttering. "How is any of that good?"

"Thanks." Sam said to Kevin, ripping out the page on the notepad and shoving it into his beige jacket pocket. "I know you aren't that far along with the gates, but this will definitely help us." The brown-haired hunter reassured. "Just keep trying."

"There's gotta to be something in here somewhere. I'll keep working." Kevin swore and despite his bedraggled appearance, there was a determination in his eyes.

The sight called to the slayer. "Before you do that, you should take a break. You need to rest up before getting back to the grindstone again." The blonde said instinctively, sympathy at the forefront of her thoughts.

Kevin shook his head. "No breaks. I gotta keep working." He insisted, sounding certain.

Her green stare hardened. "You're the only person who can crack this closing Hell's gates. That means you have to take care of yourself." Buffy told him in a crisp, authoritative tone. "Sam and Dean need you. You aren't gonna be much use to them dropping dead or catching an pneumonia. _Rest_."

Kevin stared, surprise and disbelief flashing on his face. The blonde quickly realized why. She glanced at the brothers nervously. Sam and Dean were gazing at her incredulously. More embarrassment coursed through. She probably should've asked their permission for going all "Authority Figure Mode" on Kevin, huh?

 _You're not the boss here, Buffy. Dial it back a few notches._ She told herself, ignoring the habitual amount of reluctance that thought brought. She really did not like suddenly not being in charge.

The teenager pulled his gaze away from Buffy, resting on the Winchester brothers questioningly. Recovering at this point, Sam nodded at him and Dean shrugged, throwing out his arm. _'Just roll with it._ ' He seemed to be silently saying.

Kevin sighed and rose from the chair. "Fine. Just for a couple hours." He consented grudgingly, picking up the tablet.

"Ah, ah, ah." Before he could react, Dean tugged the tablet out of Kevin's hands and set it back down on the table. The prophet stared at him. "No bringing work to bed." He said firmly, his gaze as stern as hers had been.

Kevin stood there a moment, hovering, then rolled his eyes. "Sure, whatever." He grumbled, scooting away from the chair and heading off towards his small room in the back.

"Oh, and I'm gonna feel dirty for saying this ... but after your cat nap, you might wanna have a salad and a shower." Dean called after the prophet, sounding just faintly uncomfortable but commanding nonetheless.

The teenager didn't even glance behind. "Yeah, yeah. I know. I'm on it." He answered, sounding like he didn't really care.

"Did you seriously just tell him to eat salad?" Sam questioned just as soon the door to Kevin's room clicked shut, staring at his older brother skeptically.

Dean shrugged. "Hey. Hot dog after hot dog ain't exactly breakfast of champions. Kid's still growing."

Buffy was staring after where the boy had gone, still concerned. This Kevin was dealing with a lot and had obviously been working far too much. She knew a little something about that and that's why she was glad he giving himself a chance to rest. He really, really needed it.

"And of course there's you. Miss Small and In Charge." Dean's suddenly playful voice drew Buffy back to Earth. The older Winchester had his arms crossed, regarding her with amusement. "You gonna all protocol on us next?" He mocked, smirking.

"Is it really a good idea to leave him here?" In her wrapped up thoughts, for once Dean's jibe wasn't annoying her. Buffy frowned worriedly at them. "If he's able to translate a big thing like that, then every demon's gonna be after him. Your friend Garth isn't here. Wouldn't he be more safe back at the bunker?"

Her musings got the brothers' attention. He and Sam exchanged a glance, considering.

Sam shook his head first. "The problem with that is we're as wanted as Kevin. I mean, we'd try to keep him safe, sure, but what's that really worth if the demons just keep coming to us?" The younger hunter reasoned doubtfully.

Dean nodded. "Us and demons. Like flies and vinegar. Not gonna cut it. Trust me, he's a lot safer here." He insisted, sounding certain of it.

"Especially when we're looking for Crowley. We can't bring Kevin _to_ him." Sam added.

 _Crowley ... again._ Buffy picked up on, feeling that same burst of discomfort from earlier. They certainly talked a lot about this guy and by the way of spoke of him, they took him very seriously. Not good.

The brothers seemed oblivious to her sudden turmoil. Dean was agreeing with Sam. "Yeah. We'll keep stopping by though. Keep him company." He responded. "I vote we go get Kevin some real food. Not something that's ground up hooves and pig anuses." The older Winchester remarked with feeling.

Buffy would've made a face at that description if she wasn't suddenly so anxious. She braced herself. " ... Who's Crowley?" She asked, looking at them intently.

"The Dick of dicks." Dean summed up meaningfully. Immediately he frowned fractionally. "Well, almost." He corrected more uncaringly, tilting his head as he talked and letting that just lie there.

Exasperation surged through Buffy at the completely unhelpful answer. Before she could demand clarification, Sam quickly chipped in. "Crowley's the King of Hell. He's been a real pain in our ass for years." The younger brother elaborated with nearly as much meaning, disdain in his eyes.

Buffy's eyes widened. _King of ... Hell. Well, that's different ... and awful. You gotta be kidding me._ Her emotions passed all through stages of disbelief, shock, and then finally frustration in less than a second. This was the Crowley that might be after her? The King of Hell and basically Sam and Dean's nemesis?

 _The demon me and Dean fought in the alley ... it got away. Did it tell him about me?_ She wondered worriedly, that possibility hitting her hard. No common sense in the world was convincing enough to tell her he didn't.

"What is it?"

Dean was looking at her cautiously, noticing her expression. Buffy registered this and immediately steeled herself. " ... We should probably hurry up and get Kevin that food. If we hang around too long, we might draw attention to him anyways." She said reasonably. Refusing to give away her thoughts, she turned and walked away.

Uneasiness churned her stomach violently. Her thoughts were miles ahead of her steps. The King of Hell was some title and she was a hundred percent sure he was the _last_ thing she wanted to deal with right now. She already had plenty of her own enemies back at home. Buffy didn't want Dean and Sam's added to that too.

A certain bitter irony stuck the blonde slayer at that moment. Even being stranded in an alternate universe, she already had Big Bads lining up to get in the way.

Well. At least her life was consistent.

* * *

~~Dean~~

Dean took a bite out of his burger, chewing and savoring it with relish. Sam was across him at the table, eating a salad. They had just came back from dropping off Kevin some fast food and got some of their own to go. As expected Kevin had been out cold when they arrived so they put his food in the fridge and left him a note. It wouldn't be hot when he woke, but it wasn't hot dogs and truthfully that was enough for Dean.

Now they were on the way back to the Kansas. They had crashed at the motel for the night and planned to continue the rest of the drive to the bunker tomorrow. Dean had been in complete agreement with this. They had more than enough to process and think about right now.

"That message God gave us ... or _prophecy_ , whatever it is." Dean began, setting his burger on the plate as he looked at Sam. He ignored the twinge of bitterness he felt saying "prophecy". "He said something about darkness, rise of nasties and some kinda monster _General Custer_... you think it has something to do with an army?" He asked grimly.

Sam was frowning pensively. "Given the way it was worded ... honestly it just makes too much sense to be anything else. But there's just one question. Is the army already building?" He inquired, stabbing his fork into his salad.

Dean thought about that. "Concrete answer? No friggin' clue. Safe answer? Probably."

"It has something to do with Hell and demons. Otherwise that never would've been on there." His younger brother pointed out matter-of-factly. Sam was staring hard at the note with the prophecy's words on it, having pulled it from his pocket and set it between them on the table.

Dean nodded. "It's saying stuff about blackness ... if that's not a dead giveaway to demon, then I don't know what is." The older Winchester acknowledged. "But if there's a supernatural commander somewhere involved in there, you think maybe it's pointing to Crowley? I mean, he _is_ the King of Hell."

Sam paused, uncertainty on his face. " ... I'm not sure it's that literal. Sure, Crowley's up to no good with the tablets and god knows what else, but he's still just a demon. The prophecy was way too heavy. It could be something else. Something _worse_." The brown-haired hunter said gravely.

Dean scoffed, shaking his head and reaching for his soda. " _Worse_ than Crowley. Awesome." He muttered sardonically, sipping from the straw.

Sounds of fast-moving steps from the background reached him. Dean gave a sideways glance. Buffy was pacing back-and-forth in the small room. Her arms were held tightly crossed against her chest, her body tense and her lips thinned in a hard line.

The blonde slayer had been unusually quiet ever since they left Kevin's. She had still gotten food with them, of course. She had eaten as daintily as she looked (a sandwich wrap and side of salad) and even checked out her own motel room. Now she had finished her meal, offering no input for their situation, and moving around like a rat in a cage.

Dean returned his attention back to Sam. _He_ certainly wasn't going to press Moody Judy. More serious matters right now.

His brother was shaking his head. "I don't know, man. We definitely need to keep an eye on Crowley even more, but that goes for any other players too." He remarked meaningfully.

The older Winchester got the drift immediately. "You mean Muttface." Dean summed up, irritation joining his matter-of-factness. Sam gave a confirming look. He repressed a sigh. "Yeah, he's another headache. He ever gets tired of playing hide-and-seek with us, just ring the bell and I'm up."

Despite his nonchalant tone, the rush of frustration and impatience rising in his chest every time there was a mention of that hybrid demon said otherwise. It got under his skin in every way possible: different monster, unknown motive, basically every factor that always pissed Dean off. And he knew on some level Sam was right. With the mystery surrounding that "demon", then he very well _could_ be what the prophecy was about.

Dean snorted scornfully. _Prophecy ... What a load of crap._ He thought skeptically, his own direction of thought ridiculous to him. He didn't believe in prophecies. Not _really_ anyway.

"You know what I think?" Dean began after getting another sip of his soda, setting it down and looking at his brother meaningfully. "Prophecies are crap. That's what I think." He said as much curtly, pointing at him as he spoke.

Sam was undeterred. "Crap or not, we still can't just _brush it off_ , Dean. We need to keep an eye on Crowley and track whatever kind of demon that thing was. Eyes and ears. Everywhere." The brown-haired hunter said in feeling.

"Crowley. He's your enemy, right?" Buffy interrupted abruptly, an almost urgent edge to her voice. The pretty blonde had ceased her pacing, but looked no less relaxed. In fact, she looked like she just went from wound up to completely rigid.

"... And so she speaks." Dean said dramatically without even looking at her, unable to help the sarcasm. He glanced at her. "Yeah, we hate the bastard. Why do you ask?" He prompted, intrigued.

Buffy hesitated. " ... What's he like?" She questioned, completely sidestepping the hunter's own inquiry.

This intensified his curiosity, but Dean indulged the question. "Well, first off, he's one sick puppy. Evil to the max of ten. Oh, and he thinks he's hilarious. Every snarky one-liner and you just wanna stab him in the face. " The Winchester described feelingly, his disdain for the King of Hell flowing over him. "He is one depraved son of bitch. You ever want to ruin your whole day, try breathing air next to him."

The blonde slayer rolled her eyes. "Spare me the bromance details, Dean." Buffy grumbled. Dean immediately shot her a sharp look. "I mean, what _is_ he? His strengths, his power. Like how big of a threat is he?" She fired out all these questions with increased purpose.

 _Ah, practical questions. Got it._ The older Winchester recognized. That didn't quite clear things up for him though. Why would Buffy be so interested in Crowley? The way she was acting it looked like it was a lot more than just some morbid curiosity.

Sam was looking at the blonde slayer with careful questioning. "Crowley's pretty big on the scale. He's commands all the demons, all of Hell. He's not someone you want to mess with." His younger brother clarified seriously. "But it's not 'cause he's strong. It's 'cause he's smart. He's always thinking a couple steps ahead."

Dean scoffed. "Only reason he's lived this long." He muttered grudgingly, above his pride enough to admit it. "See, Crowley ... he was just a crossroads demon. Nothing special. They make deals trading off people's souls for one thing, then ten years later your ticket's up and you get dragged to Hell. He was basically a demonic Jordan Belfort. Next thing you know he trades up the _Wall-Street_ side of Hell for the throne and becomes king." Dean shrugged. "Don't ask me how it happened. He's just been a real bitch dealing with ever since."

Buffy was quiet. At last she nodded tensely. " ... So power mostly in the brains, not in the body." She murmured in a hard to place tone, sounding like it was more to herself than them. She raised his head. "Which is _awful_. The smarty monsters ... they're always the hardest to take down. The _worst_."

The meaningful and final tenor in Buffy's voice could only come from personal experience. It seemed more than that though. She looked irritated and more than a little troubled. Something about this was getting under her skin.

Dean couldn't stay quiet anymore. "So is there a wrench in there or this all just healthy, alternate universe curiosity?" The older Winchester questioned pointedly, gesturing at her as he eyed her probingly.

The blonde hesitated briefly, but the hesitation melted away into naked worry. "When we met fighting those demons in that alley ... before you showed up, they said something about bringing me to Crowley. They weren't trying to kill me. They were trying to _capture_ me." She said reluctantly, her arms crossed.

Shock washed over Dean. His brother was just as surprised, frowning at the blonde. "Why'd they want you?" Sam asked.

Buffy shrugged. "They knew I was different, I guess. They didn't know what I was. I think that's why they wanted me alive." The blonde admitted, looking deep in thought. "And since one of the demons got away ... I can't help but feel like they're still jonseing for a gift-wrapped slayer." She stated uncomfortably.

Dean's shock was replaced with clarity. And with that clarity came a lot of frustration. "You mean Crowley's got a spot for you in his Freak Emporium and you never thought to tell us until now?" Dean responded incredulously. "Real quick on the uptake there, Buffy!" He remarked sharply, gesturing to her with his arm as he scowled disapprovingly.

Buffy glowered back. "Oh, _I'm sorry._ I guess I didn't realize I had to share every little detail of my problems to you. Especially the ones I don't know I have!" She snapped, containing just as much biting sarcasm. "I didn't _know_ he was the King of Hell. And in case you forgot already, I'm not exactly from _around_ here either."

Dean gave a roll of his eyes, though did understand where she was coming from. No way in hell he was giving to admit it out loud though.

Buffy's irritated look lingered on the older hunter a second before she turned to his brother. "So what do you think? Should I be worried?"

Sam's expression was sympathetic. "If that demon reported to Crowley about your abilities, then there's only way it could go and that's Crowley trying to find you. If he doesn't know what you are, then you're going to perk up his curiosity ... and he's got a lot of it." The younger hunter warned meaningfully.

"There _is_ no if. If you and me can figure out Buffy's extra power punch, of course those demons saw it a mile away. She's not exactly normal around here." Dean replied, unwavering. He refocused on the pretty blonde seriously. "You're on Crowley's list and he's gonna be after you. It's just a matter of time." He said frankly.

Buffy's expression darkened. "Well, that's just great. Stuck in an alternate universe and I'm _still_ a demon magnet." She grumbled in marked bitterness, throwing out her arms. She shook her head. "Just when you think everything's different ..." She singsonged, trailing away as she was overcome with disgust.

A stab of sympathy pricked the older Winchester. "It's probably not gonna matter anyway. You're not staying in this world. Crowley can go screw himself." Dean stated as matter-of-factly and briskly as he could.

Sam nodded agreement, giving her his best reassuring look.

Buffy didn't look that reassured. The blonde slayer just stood there silently a moment or two, her eyes lowered from theirs and her expression framed by a distant edge filled with a thousand unreadable thoughts. Buffy sighed, pulling out one of the table's chairs and flopping down in it.

" ... Okay. So what do we know about this prophecy?" She began suddenly briskly, raising her head. "Obviously it's got the _end-of-the-world_ vibe down so check. But somewhere in there, there's a ringleader. Can you think of anyone else other than Crowley?"

 _Now she decides to get all up in our business?_ Dean couldn't help but think, surprised yet again. He must've shown his disbelief because the blonde's stare on him intensified. "You help me. I help you. That was the deal."

Sam, frowning, shook his head. "We never made any deal—"

"Then it's my deal. Deal with it." Buffy interrupted, sounding unerringly firm. This earned her an incredulous look from both brothers.

Dean quietly scoffed. This woman's unfailing habit to meddle when she had so many other things on her plate never ceased to amaze him. Buffy should be focusing on returning to her world and brushing up on why she was sent here, not wasting her precious time with their problems.

The Winchester, however, had learned from their hunt together that this woman was obstinate and she'd do what she wanted no matter what you said. Arguing with her would get them nowhere ... and honestly who was Dean to deny a few extra brains on the job?

The same train of thought had obviously passed through his brother. Sam was looking at her thoughtfully. "Well, there is a rogue demon. He completely massacred a whole bunch of Crowley's men when they were raiding crypts just a little while before you got here." The younger hunter began.

Buffy looked confused. "If the demon betrayed Crowley, then wouldn't that make them on our side?"

"Demons don't change their stripes. It was just trying to stick it to Crowley." Dean responded matter-of-factly. "Besides, he wasn't just a demon. Not the run-of-the mill ones anyway."

Sam nodded. "It was all in the sulfur."

The pretty blonde hunter blinked. " _Sulfur_?"

"Sulfur ... it's yellow powdery subtance. It smells rancid. Kinda like rotten eggs." His younger brother explained.

Impatience rose to Buffy's face. "I know what sulfur is. Got the C in my high school chem class to prove it." She clarified pointedly. "But what's a chemical on the periodic table have to do with demon-y things?"

"Demons leave behind sulfur. If you ever wanna know if a demon's been around, that's the dead give-away." Dean answered.

The slayer stared at him hard. "... So basically you follow a sulfur trail and suddenly it's _E.T._ with the _Reese's Pieces._ Demon jackpot." She summed up, very little inflection in her voice. She shook her head, one hand on her forehead. "Who made up this stuff? _Bill Nye_?"

The older Winchester shrugged. "Those are the rules." He responded, watching the slayer's alienation with an indifferent eye. " 'Course those rules don't mean jack squat. At least not with this one. It's sulfur is all slime and green goo. Not your typical demon cocktail." Dean admitted more grimly.

"It's a mutation apparently. We've never seen anything like it." Sam said just as severely.

Buffy sobered at this. She gave them a long, hard stare. "If it's some new hybrid ... then maybe your real problem isn't Crowley." She stated at last evenly. "Think about it. A new demon _and_ a prophecy at the same time? That's not exactly a coincidence." The blonde warned.

"We know." His younger brother acknowledged, looking resigned.

"There's one problem to that though. We don't know where it is. We don't even know what the _hell_ it is." Dean pointed out a little sharply. "So we're between Crowley and a wild card. At least with Crowley we know what we're dealing with." He said meaningfully, feeling a twinge of unease.

"It could go either way. Best bet's looking out for both." Sam stated reasonably.

Buffy's only response was a slow nod, thoughtfulness in her features. Dean focused on the note about the prophecy in front of him and grabbed it. He read over the unsettling words with slightly narrowed eyes. Each word just made his mood worse. "Twilight comes from the lost, the pariah, and the fallen ... _really_?" The hunter read out loud, incredulity in his voice.

"Revealing, isn't it?" His little brother remarked sardonically, just as unsatisfied.

Dean made a skeptical noise in his throat, still eying the paper. "It has 'twilight' in it. Anything with _Twilight_ and it's automatically bad." The older Winchester deadpanned, setting the notepad paper back down.

Sam was frowning " ... It sounds like it's talking about people." He murmured thoughtfully.

Dean stared incredulously. "You mean _three_ bad guys? What, are we entering _Triple Threat_ territory now?" A wave of irritation and bitterness washed over the hunter. Three headaches and a possible apocalypse. That _sure_ brightened up his day.

His brother shrugged helplessly. "Maybe. Maybe it's something symbolic. I mean, it's just a phrase." Sam offered uncertainly.

"Yeah, or maybe God just likes poetry." Dean said in very humorless humor. He sighed and shook his head. "He couldn't be any more specific? Is it that damn of a strain on him?" The hunter expressed in exasperation, his resentment for the reining heavyweight of deadbeat dads roaring to the surface.

Sam threw out his hands. "God works in mysterious ways." He responded flatly, the contempt obvious.

"Yeah, mysterious, douche-y ways." Dean muttered, unimpressed.

"Prophecies in a nutshell. Not so much with the straight answers." Buffy chipped in. "If that's all it says, then that's all you got. You're never gonna really know what it means until it happens."

The older Winchester glowered. Buffy was completely right ... and that just added another reason under a list of ones on why he hated prophecies. Why would God send a warning through the Demon Tablet and not be specific about it? No, wait. That'd be actually _doing_ something. Too much work for him. He forgot.

Now that Dean thought about it, he was actually surprised God even bothered sending them a prophecy. He made it abundantly clear during the Apocalypse he didn't think any problem was _his_ anymore. Giving them a cryptic warning was actually some major elbow grease coming from him.

Sam nodded agreement. "So we work with what we have and keep moving."

The blonde slayer paused. Her brow was scrunched in deep thought. " ... You said Crowley's demons was raiding crypts when the mystery demon nuked them. Do you know why?" She asked suddenly.

"Nope." Dean answered in quick bluntness.

Sam shook his head, looking disappointed. "We know they were looking for something. That's about it."

Buffy frowned, then gave a small shake of her head. "That's not bad. You still have something to work with." The blonde hunter looked like she was giving this a lot of thought. "If that demon stopped them from searching, then that means they're after the same thing. So if Crowley goes grave-robbing again ..." She trailed away, looking at them meaningfully.

" ... Then Mr. _Slithis_ can't be far behind." Dean declared in realization, giving her a nod of approval. He had to admit when you looked past the stereotypes, the blonde was actually really smart. She thought like a strategist. She thought like a _hunter_.

Buffy smiled. "Thank you for writing to _Dear Slayer._ " She quipped. Dean smirked at this.

Sam also looked impressed. "That's a really good idea. As long as that mystery demon's M.I.A., then going through Crowley's the best plan."

"But you don't know where he is either, do you?" The small blonde answered knowingly.

"If we did, we'd already be banging on his door, locked and loaded." Dean replied matter-of-factly, not a word understated.

Buffy nodded. "You should probably trap one of Crowley's demons and beat some information out of it. His location maybe." The slayer concluded levelly. She gave a small shrug of her shoulders. "That's what I'd do at least."

Dean smiled slowly. "What do you know. So we _do_ have something in common." He remarked in amusement, glad to know their hunting methods weren't completely world's apart (if they were talking _figuratively_ ).

"That's what we were planning." Sam reaffirmed, nodding. "It's not as easy as it sounds though. Demons aren't the talking type ... and they're really sneaky. They're not easy to find."

Buffy looked uncomprehending. "You mean you can't just patrol around town and snatch one off the street?"

Every time Dean thought Buffy wasn't different from them, he was proven wrong. The older Winchester snorted. "What world are _you_ living in?" He mocked, looking at her incredulously.

"Still mine apparently." Buffy replied with a frown, not reacting to the barb. "Where I come from, I don't have to go more than a foot out the door to find demons. Especially lately. They're always around." She explained, looking mighty confused.

 _Oh, so they're just stupider._ Dean very nearly said the tauting comment out loud, unable to compare their devious bastards against her simplistic ones and still believe hers weren't cakewalks. "Our world, our rules, sister." He told her simply, expression meaningful.

Buffy looked disconcerted, but luckily didn't blow it up into a big "my world vs. your world" debate.

Sam sighed. "Alright, so we head out and start demon-searching first thing tomorrow."

Dean balled up the wrappers from his burger (already eaten at this point) and threw it a short ways a way in the trash without getting up. It swished in the wastebasket perfectly. "But we're still gonna be looking for cases in between. Can't stop the job." The older hunter stated, completely matter-of-fact.

"The demon hunting should come first." Buffy said, sounding very firm. "But I get it. If there isn't anything too demon-y after a while, then we go back to _X-Files_."

A jolt shot through the hunter. Dean looked back at her sharply. "Whoa. _We_?" He said with an edge, gesturing to them with his hand. He stared at her incredulously. "You're not hunting with us." He said, carrying a tone that said that had never even been in question (and in Dean's mind, it hadn't).

Buffy's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"You're supposed to be going back home. Find the magical wardrobe or ruby slippers or whatever. So _you_ do that. Your own thing." Dean replied with conviction. "Look. _We get it_. 'I help you, you help me'. Being the good samaritan. But we're not quid pro quo-ing you. You don't gotta prove anything."

"I can't just—" Buffy started to argue, rising from the chair.

"Yes, _you_ can! Focus on your own problems. Believe me, me and Sam ... we don't mind." The hunter responded more sternly as he stood up, giving her a meaningful look.

He couldn't believe this was even an argument. Couldn't Buffy be like a normal person and not give a single damn what was going on in his and his brother's life? She was trying to hoard other people's troubles when already she had enough of her own.

 _She's too nice for own good._ Dean thought in a grumble. He couldn't believe he once thought this woman would be the type to stab you in your sleep.

The blonde slayer's jaw tightened a bit. "I _know_. If you think I actually _want_ to be here ..." She broke herself off with a incredulous shake of her head. "Straight arrow priorities. That's me." She insisted heartily, gesturing to herself. "It's just ... not that easy." She mumbled a little less surely.

"Sure it is." Dean said casually, not the least bit fazed. At the blonde slayer's discontented look, his expression hardened. "The prophecy, Crowley. That's _our_ problem! Not yours." He told her off much more forcefully, pointing at her as he spoke.

Buffy was rendered silent, staring at him.

Sam, also standing now, had watched the conversation with resigned understanding. "We know you're just trying to help, Buffy. And we're grateful for it. We really are. But you helped enough. Now we need to help you a little, remember?" The brown-haired hunter said gently, contrasting jarringly against Dean's much harsher tone.

"You don't want to get too deep in this." Dean warned.

The blonde gazed at the brothers. Finally she sighed. "I get it, okay? I'm staying in the shallow end as much as possible." She conceded wearily. When she raised her head again, her expression was more resolute. "But with you two going around killing monsters ... I can't just ignore that. I'm a slayer. That's what I _do_."

Buffy was completely serious. Every part of her from her voice to her facial expression etched it out. Dean gauged this with more unsure discomfort. It was obviously more than her just wanting to help. It was her _instinct_. Could Dean say he would honestly be any different in her position?

That's the problem though. The key factor. He _wasn't_ in that position. Soon enough his wall of _"no way in hell"_ was back.

"I want to go home more than anything. I hate this place, no offense." Buffy spoke directly, not sounding very apologetic. Dean shrugged. None taken. "But I don't _have_ anything right now. Still all the way at square one. At least, when I help you sometimes, I'm actually getting somewhere in _something_. Now I'm not saying I'm getting cozy ... but it's the one normal thing for me out _all_ of this." She explained forcefully, perceptive bitterness in her voice.

Dean stood rigidly with arms crossed, frustration seething in his chest. So _that_ was her problem. She didn't like feeling helpless. If she felt that in any way, she'd find another outlet where she wasn't. That pissed him off though. Buffy was finding the entirely _wrong_ outlet. Going home was more important, even if she felt crappy finding dead ends the whole time.

Something else pricked Dean though. The real reason for his frustration: guilt. Buffy didn't think she had any way to go home right now ... but there was a way. No matter how much Dean hated to say it.

But he was going to. Otherwise he'd feel like too much of a dick. Whether that was a smart choice or not remained to be seen.

" ... There is something. A way. _Maybe_." Dean began irritably, succeeding in controlling his frustration enough to at least speak. Buffy's attention on him intensified several degrees, which made him more uncomfortable, but forced himself to keep going. "We have a friend. His name's Cas. He might be able to send you back. He's ... he's, uh, an angel." He revealed reluctantly.

He said it.

Buffy stared at him. Her green eyes were two huge saucers. "Angel as in ... feathery, winged, _Touched by an Angel_ angel?" She questioned slowly, her tone laced with disbelief. Dean shrugged awkwardly. The blonde's eyes widened more. "You're friends with an _angel_?" She said in absolute incredulity.

Apparently sensing his older brother's acute mixed feelings about this topic, Sam stepped forward. He nodded at Buffy. "We've known him for years. He's a good friend. If anyone's going to help you, it's him." The brown-haired hunter told her with conviction.

Dean rolled his eyes, looking away. _Cas hasn't been Cas in a while ..._ He couldn't help thinking pessimistically, skepticism and a prick of pain stabbing him along with the sting of guilt. His reservations only roared stronger.

The blonde slayer seemed to be reining in herself. "... How?" She looked wary. Smart.

"Angels have traveled us across time a couple times. Alternate universes probably aren't that much different." His younger brother elaborated, keeping his voice level and reassuring.

Unrestrained surprise fitted across Buffy's face at the time-traveling bit, but she masked it again. She was a quiet a moment. " ... You're really friends with an angel?" She said at last, her look flat and skeptical. That seemed to be the one thing she still wasn't getting.

"It just matters that he helps you, okay? Come on! Priorities!" Dean said impatiently, clapping his hands together. He was in no the mood for "The Talk". "Now we can summon Cas. You want a way home and we're offering it. Take it. You have a sister to get back to." The Winchester said in final tone, his gaze on her stern and unyielding.

Out of everything else, the mention of her sister seemed to be the only thing that got to her. Buffy's sharp cynicism melted away, softened by a look of regret and longing. "Dawn ..." She murmured, a plethora of emotions in that one word. She sucked in a deep breath and raised her head, sporting a more resolved look in her eyes. "Okay. Bring him here."

Her agreement stirred his doubt again. This time Dean stubbornly sealed it in a box and put it in the back of his mind. Whatever crazy hell was going on with Castiel, he was still his friend (for better or for worse). It was too easy to remain on the wary side, but with Buffy he couldn't afford to. Cas was her one shot. Maybe even her only. If he and Sam couldn't trust him, then how could they expect Buffy to?

For the first time in what felt like all evening, the Winchester relaxed. "... Alright. We'll call him up." Dean said with characteristic briskness, nodding at her before reaching for his phone.

The hunter felt a flicker of satisfaction building. After everything this girl had been through, they were finally able to help her and send her back to where she belonged. To her little sister, her charges, and everyone else that needed her. Another person taken care of. It was the right thing to do.

 _It's too bad she ain't sticking around. We coulda had a real wild night._ Dean thought, smirking ruefully as he called Cas and waited for his friend to answer. Genuine regret hit Dean. It was a real shame he didn't get a chance. She'd definitely would've went down in history as one of his best nights ever.

Oh well though. As long as Buffy was alive and reunited with her friends and family, that's what mattered most to Dean. He could live with that.

Just then, Cas's voice picked up on the receiver. Dean sobered. "Cas? Hey. Listen, I got a favor to ask you ..."

* * *

~~Buffy~~

Buffy watched with bated breath as Dean talked into to his phone. To his friend. His _angel_ friend. Who not only can send people across time, but send her back to her universe. Then there would be no repercussions, nothing will go wrong, and next thing you know she'll be drilling slayers again. Everything would go back to normal.

Something _resembling_ that swished around in her head space. Ever since the term "angel" started getting thrown around, her thought process hadn't been very coherent.

"Try getting here now." Dean was saying, expression serious. "You know where we're at. The sooner, the—"

There was a billowing sound along with something close to wings. Buffy startled, whirling around. Suddenly a man was in the room. He was dressed in a suit with a blue tie, a brown trench coat draped over him. He looked like he was in his thirties, sporting short brown hair and looking at them through intense blue eyes.

Buffy stared blankly. _That's an angel?_

The blonde felt a little underwhelmed. This guy didn't look all powerful. Compared to Sam and Dean, he even seemed diminutive. She had never been a true believer of angels. What she had expected ... well, she didn't know _what_ she expected, but it hadn't been this. He looked like he came straight out of Sherlock Holmes _._

Dean still had his phone to his ear, staring at who she assumed was Cas with casual recognition. " ... better." He finished lamely. Quickly hanging up his phone and shoving it in his pocket, he walked over to him. "Right on time. Sure we aren't cutting into your busy schedule?"

There was a certain edge behind that casual greeting that Buffy couldn't discern. Cas, however, did. His expression become a shade tense. " ... I've been busy investigating that strange demon from the crypts. With little success, unfortunately. But I am still looking into it." He explained, the discomfort in his voice gradually increasing.

" ... It's been a week. You couldn't call?" Dean asked cautiously, another strange note to his voice.

This time Buffy paid more attention. She looked between the two friends. She sensed drama.

Cas let out a breath. " ... I've been trying to lay low. Too much contact can make that difficult." He answered, apology on his face.

Dean gave a terse nod, staring at him hard. He didn't look very satisfied.

"We're glad you're here, Cas." Sam spoke up then, his voice a little too quick. He seemed as tense as the other two.

Castiel's eyes were fixed on Dean a moment more, then he glanced slowly at Sam and nodded. The "angel" (that still didn't sound right to her) finally turned his attention towards her. Curiosity sparked in his eyes. "You must be Buffy. My name's Castiel. I was told you need help." He introduced himself cordially.

Buffy blinked, realizing a beat too late he was talking to her. Uncertainty at how to address Castiel hit her like a freight train. Should she go for the reverent approach or just play it cool? Sure, she wasn't religious. But she was talking to an _angel_. How was she supposed to speak to him?

"So ... you're an angel, huh?" The blonde slayer began awkwardly, giving his profile an exaggerated once-over. "No wings, a trench coat. Are you sure you aren't just a _Columbo_ wannabe?" She joked.

Glib. Glib never failed her. She was probably going to Hell for that comment though.

"I have no idea who _Columbo_ is." Castiel answered literally, straight-faced. "But yes, I am an angel. I have my wings. This form is ... it's just a vessel." He explained matter-of-factly, gesturing to his body.

All humor in her evaporated. Shock flowed over the small blonde and she stared at him severely. "You mean you're _possessing_ someone?" Buffy said incredulously, accusation in her voice. That didn't sound angelic at all.

"It's not as bad as it sounds. Angels can only possess people when they get permission. They have to say yes." Sam clarified swiftly, spreading out his hands calmingly.

 _And that's just supposed to make it better?_ Buffy couldn't help thinking, frowning in dissatisfaction. Even if they signed up for it, it was still essentially robbing someone of their life. Stuff like that always made her skin crawl no matter what the circumstance.

"My true form is too blinding for human eyes. That's why angels take vessels." Castiel went on with detached crispness. She must've scowled because the angel turned faintly sympathetic. "I understand it's not ideal. If it makes you feel any better, this vessel is unoccupied. There's no one in here but me."

The blonde supposed that was meant to be relieving, but she didn't feel much better. All that brought was scores of questions, like whatever had happened to that innocent man who's body he was occupying.

 _Not your problem, remember? Getting home is. Focus, Buffy._ She berated herself, shoving aside the twinge of obligation.

"Well. Now that we got greetings out of the way ..." Dean cut into the conversation, stepping forward. "Let's just cut to the chase. Buffy ... she's stuck here. We need you to help send her back where she came from."

Castiel looked confused. "Why do you need—" The angel cut himself off, realization slowly dawning on his face. He immediately became more serious. "Are you saying she's from a different time period?" He asked in a low tone.

" ... Sort of." Buffy admitted reluctantly, frowning uncomfortably as she thought back to the weird time difference between their worlds. "But for the short version, no. Not really. My problem's more ... otherworldly." The small blonde started vaguely.

"She's from a different world, Cas." Sam said quietly, looking at him meaningfully.

Castiel's expression hardened, rising several degrees in magnitude. Buffy looked him in the eye. "Where I come from, there's slayers. Girls with superpowers. That's what I am. We help take down demons and other monsters ... and I know for a fact none of that lines up here." The blonde began levelly. "I'm not home. Sam and Dean told me you might be able to fix that." The slayer eyed him slightly more uneasily. "So can you? Help?"

The angel said nothing, his look darkening. This did not go unnoticed to the brothers, who were now regarding him with more caution.

" ... This is not good." He said at last, sounding terse.

Buffy's anxiety spiked. Sam and Dean both looked confused. "Come on, Cas. You've zapped us across time before. What's a little stint as _Universe Express_ to you?" Dean reminded him matter-of-factly, throwing out his hand.

Castiel sighed. "You're simplifying this, Dean. You don't understand the magnitude of what you're asking." The Winchester's friend told him wearily, his blue gaze meaningful.

 _Not likin' the way this is going._ The blonde thought wryly, growing very concerned. "And he's not the only one. So why don't you spill all the gritty details? 'Cause I'd _really_ like to get home." Buffy prompted smoothly, a defiant edge to her voice.

The angel hesitated.

" _Cas_." Dean pressed, a little more impatiently.

Castiel let out an resigned breath. "Alternate universes ... they are many of them. The exact number remains unclear. Travelling between them is a ... very delicate process." The angel began reluctantly.

"What do you mean? You've taken us back and forth through time. How is that much different?" Sam said in bewilderment, frowning.

"It is _very_ different, Sam." Cas emphasized, his blue gaze stern. "You're talking about ripping through time and space continuum. It takes up vast amounts of power. The fact Buffy's even here at all ... that's nothing short of miracle." He stated severely.

"I get it, I get it. I'm a miracle." The blonde responded flippantly, deeply unimpressed. "But you _can_ still do it, right? Bring me back? It's possible, right?" Buffy prodded him, each phrase containing more desperation than the last. It matched the pit developing in her stomach.

The look of pity on Castiel's face nearly split her in two. "It uses up a lot of power. More than I have. But that's only half the problem." The angel went on, regretful but unwavering. Thoughtfulness gathered in his features. "Dimension-travelling triggers disturbances in the void. They cause catastrophes. Natural disasters." He revealed, looking very grave.

Buffy stared. Waves of horror and dismay crashed down on her. _So if I left to go back to my world ... something would happen here. People would get hurt._ She realized with a sickening amount of guilt and pain. It wouldn't matter on what scale it was. Natural disasters were natural disasters. Someone would be getting hurt.

"What the hell are you talking about, Cas?" Dean said incredulously. "Me and Sam have been down that road. Parallel Hollywood World. Balthazar took us there, remember? Nothing happened. 'Cept maybe a couple month's worth of _therapy_." He told him, meaning creeping into his voice towards the end.

No amount of incredulity or disbelief in that weird revelation could've ripped Buffy out of the funk she was rapidly sinking in. All she could think about was the consequences Cas spoke of. She couldn't accept that. There had to be more than this. Somewhere. She wasn't _really_ trapped here, was she?

"Oh, the effect was there. It was just minor." Their angel friend answered, sounding certain. At the brother's baffled expressions (Dean was already opening his mouth), Cas clarified. "The world Balthazar took you to was a mirror. It's only difference was it's non-magical properties. That's why it's usage was convenient and less damaging."

"So basically ... the more alike two universes are, the less the fallout." Sam connected the dots. "That's what that nasty storm in Kansas was a week ago, wasn't it? It happened around the same time Buffy arrived. It was a ripple effect." The brown-haired hunter announced with certainty.

Castiel nodded. "Essentially."

Tension bruised the slayer's every muscle. " ... And my world? What would going back cause this time?" Buffy asked tensely, her lips pressed in a hard line as she struggled to abate her fear and frantic hope in that question.

There was nothing comforting in the angel's face. "I don't know. I am sorry."

Buffy felt like all the air had been punched out of her. Raw disappointment rendered her miserably speechless. Dean and Sam were both shooting looks at her, concerned and wary.

"Well, what about Balthazar's spell? If you don't have the angel juice, just give us the ingredients for the spell and we'll send her back that way." Dean suggested, undeterred

A flutter of hope sprouted in Buffy. It crashed and burned immediately when she saw Castiel's torn expression. "Dean ... this isn't a mirror world. This is a completely independent one. I can't predict the results if we went through with this. It could end disastrously." He warned gravely.

"Are you saying I can't go back home?" Buffy prompted desperately, battling for control against the tide of her emotions that was systematically breaking her down.

Castiel's expression was lined with pity. "I'm saying the process would be risky and might have unintended consequences. I can't promise it'd be on a small scale. Too many disruptions between worlds ... it defies the natural order." He responded in sympathetic honesty.

That was the answer she never wanted to hear. Little by the little, the worst implications and the worst possible conclusions rested heavily on Buffy's shoulders. It was the size of anvils.

Dean looked dubious. "She disrupts the natural order just by being here. If Natural Law's the problem then hell, sending her packing would probably set everything right." The hunter argued indignantly, throwing out his arm.

Sam shook his head. "There has to be a way, Cas."

Fear mounted in the blonde slayer by second. She didn't know what to do. On one hand, a part of her told herself her arrival here had only caused a bad storm. Going back surely wouldn't be any worse. But then there was the other ... she didn't know that. If she went back, causing a horrible natural disaster here and people died in it ... that just would be more blood on her hands.

 _But then I'd never see Dawn again ... or my friends or my slayers or anything. I'd just be stuck._ Buffy thought, grief-stricken. Even imagining that possibility pierced her with so much misery and such aching loneliness. She'd be away from her friends and stuck in a world she didn't recognize. She'd be alone. Forever.

It was too much.

Buffy shook her head vigorously, the start of tears in her eyes. She felt them welling. "No. There was to be another way. I-I can't ..." She started out in a trembly voice, pausing to get her grip on herself. She looked at Castiel pleadingly. "I-I can't accept this."

* * *

~~Castiel~~

Castiel stood uncomfortably as he took in the grief-fueled tears sprouting Buffy's eyes. Surges of pity, uncertainty, and guilt nagged at the angel's heart with a crushing hold. This woman had seemed so confident and self-assured when she first spoke to him. Now she looked small, fearful, and vulnerable. It was amazing to him how a simple conversation could arouse such a drastic change.

He was completely at a loss. He knew this conversation wouldn't end well quite early on, but he hadn't expected to upset her this much. Cas had only given her honesty. _She has deep love for her friends and family ... too deep to be apart from them._ He recognized sadly, regretful.

Castiel wanted to help Buffy. He wished he could. Sending her back home would be another way he could redeem himself for all his crimes to Heaven and so many other innocent people. The situation was beyond them though. Castiel couldn't risk any horrific consequences if he did send her back. There was no telling what would happen. He didn't want more blood to be shed needlessly.

Still, his train of thought did nothing to make him feel better. _There must be a way to help this woman. She's innocent and should be with her family. There has to be a less dangerous way._ He thought with feeling. Castiel desperately wanted to believe that, but he didn't know what basis gave it foundation.

 _"Castiel!"_

A sharp voice ringed in his ears. The angel had no time to react when a flash of white scarred his vision and he was slipped deep into his consciousness. Instantaneously he was pulled into a blank room, surrounded by pure white. Castiel turned instinctively to the front. A woman with her reddish-brown hair pulled back in a bun sat at a desk, wearing a gray suit and regarding him with stern eyes.

Naomi.

"You are not helping this girl go home, Castiel." The female angel said immediately.

The hard finality in her tone surprised Castiel. Reluctance and indignation warred within the fallen angel. "She's searching for a way back to her world. There must be a more desirable alternative for her." He couldn't help but argue, unable to staunch his sympathy for the girl.

" _No_ , Castiel. Buffy Summers isn't going back to her universe and you're certainly not helping her with it." Naomi said forcefully. She paused, regarding him with a piercing and meaningful stare. " ... She is meant to be here."

The fallen angel frowned. There was something in that tone. Some kind of meaning. He couldn't describe it. "What do you mean, Naomi?"

"This girl's arrival wasn't a coincidence. She's here for a purpose. Just like you, Castiel." The female angel's gaze was meaningful. "You were brought out of Purgatory not only to protect the Angel Tablet and all our angels, but to protect _all_ of us, including humans." Naomi elaborated. "Our world's entire existence is about to be threatened."

Naomi was not the type of angel to overstate. Alarm shot up in Castiel. "You mean an apocalypse?"

The female angel was grave. She gave a stiff, barely perceptive nod.

Dismay fell upon him and he shook his head. "What is triggering it?" He continued as evenly as could.

Naomi gave him a long look, but didn't explain. Frustration swelled in Castiel. Did she not know what was leading them into their third apocalypse? Was she only making assumptions? Could she at least tell him whether she knew or not? _What's the point of telling me this and not giving me any details?_

He was tired of her only giving half-truths and withholding so much. He was tired of being subservient to her. There were so many other things Castiel would be rather doing than listen to Naomi, regardless of being in debt to her for getting him out of Purgatory. Like tell Dean and Sam the truth. He would tell them. He would tell them everything.

" ... She has power. I sensed it. I can see why you find her valuable." Castiel began stiffly. "But she fights the supernatural, as Sam and Dean do. If our situation is already so dire, then why not just tell her the truth?" He questioned directly.

"She won't help us, Castiel." The female angel replied, completely matter-of-fact. "She's obstinate. If we tell her the whole truth ... she'll betray us. We can't risk her rebelling against us. We can't trust her anymore than we can trust the Winchesters."

 _You_ can _trust them._ Castiel thought, automatic protest in his chest. He knew Sam and Dean. They would do whatever they could to save the world and stop an apocalypse. He couldn't say he knew much about Buffy, but something in Naomi's voice said she did. It almost sounded like she heard of her before.

Castiel couldn't begin to make sense of that or why. He didn't know what he thought about it either. He disagreed with Naomi's decisions on many levels and he wasn't too sure he'd agree with her reasoning for this. Trusting the angel's judgment didn't come natural to him.

"And yet you expect this woman's help." The fallen angel pointed out, an edge to his voice. Even if Naomi did seemingly know more about Buffy than he did, Castiel couldn't help the way it grated with his morals.

His superior looked at him sharply. "She has her uses. The only way to take full advantage of that is keeping her in the dark." Naomi justified clinically. "It's the most expedient solution for furthering our plan. Trust me, Castiel."

Castiel watched her through a hard stare. "I don't."

Naomi was unruffled. "Not yet. But you will." She answered, a confidence to her voice that made him uneasy. "Now if we're going to get this slayer at our disposal, then we need to go about it carefully. Giving her too much freedom could jeopardize our entire mission." She declared meaningfully.

 _You mean control her._ The fallen angel thought pointedly. Control. That's what it all came down to for Naomi. Control him and now control Buffy. There was no peaceful agreements, fair trade, or respect of differences. It made Cas sick.

Castiel stared her down disapprovingly. "She is a human _being_ , Naomi. She only wants to return to her world. It'd be cruel to tear her away from that chance to fight _our war_." He told her in dripping judgment.

"It's our _survival_ , Castiel!" The female angel snapped. "The sake of our world is the one that matters and if we don't use Buffy, we'll all be lost. It's necessary for self-preservation and that, Castiel, is how simple this really is." Naomi reprimanded severely. Intense meaning glowed from her blue eyes. "Buffy being here was fate."

Uncertainty and doubt had sprouted in Castiel listening to Naomi's admonishing, but the second he heard the last part his emotions quelled. The fallen angel looked Naomi in the eye with calm resolution. " ... Fate can always be thwarted." He said solemnly.

Naomi didn't react. " ... The Slayer is here for our use. _That_ is an absolute. And you're helping with that." His superior reiterated, her tone final. Castiel stiffened as she continued on. "This is my job for you. You won't remember most of this consciously ... except the things I let you remember." Her expression hardened. "You will do _exactly_ what I tell you ..."

* * *

~~Buffy~~

In her storm of misery and fear, standing in this spot in front of this angel waiting for words was the most terrifying thing Buffy had ever experienced. Her insides were tearing at the seams. She needed something. Anything to tell her none of this was what it sounded. But Castiel just said nothing, his expression blank and blue gaze unfocused.

She wasn't going to cry though. Not yet.

"Say something!" Buffy snapped, distressed.

Castiel blinked, responsive again and refocused on her. This whole moment had been less than a second, but it felt much longer to her. The angel gazed at her, though there still somewhat faraway look in his eyes. " ... They may be one way to send you back. Harmlessly."

Buffy's attention sharpened instantaneously. "What is it?"

The angel paused. " ... Zaphkiel's scythe." He confessed, sounding more like a sigh than words.

"You mean an angel's scythe?" Sam guessed, frowning thoughtfully.

Cas nodded. "It was forged in the 13th century. It had the ability to send you in-between worlds while keeping the repercussions to a minimum." He began. "A group of high-ranking angels fell into conflict back then. They couldn't stand the absence of God and turned on each other. They ran amuck, unrestrained and reckless."

Dean scoffed. "Yeah. Like we hadn't heard that one before."

 _Absence of God?_ Buffy wondered, frowning. Wasn't what made God _God_ was that he was _always_ around? Nothing ever happened to him. If he had just left, wouldn't he tell the angels? That didn't sound like the God she always heard people talk about.

Then again, Castiel's talk of his angels didn't sound like angels either. They sounded more like petulant children.

Castiel was solemn, his eyes lowered thoughtfully. "The battles were very bloody. They used alternate worlds as an instrument to their warfare, tearing open holes in reality for weapons and places to recoup." He elaborated, looking more and more grave. "The results were catastrophic. It caused numerous rips and one of the most massive earthquakes in history."

The small blonde stared in shocked horror, all anguish forgotten as the magnitude of his story hit. That was awful and she could see from the look in Cas's eyes he remembered every bit of it like he'd been there. Suddenly he looked very old, more than she had ever imagined when she first saw him.

"All this just 'cause Daddy didn't kiss them goodnight ..." Dean remarked disdainfully, wholly unimpressed. Not the slightest bit surprised though. Buffy caught that right away. He shook his head. "Friggin' puppets. Why don't they drink it all away like normal people?" He said in distaste.

"The earthquake you're talking about ... is it the Syrian one? It was in 1202 A.D. 13th century, like you said." Sam broached suddenly, surprising Buffy. Dean gave his brother an impressive double-take. The younger Winchester looked grim. "Reports say it killed about a million people."

His angel friend nodded. "Yes, that the was one. Scientists have grossly misinterpreted it."

Buffy absorbed the information with rising disgust. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. A _million_ lives? Over their own _family issues_? Were the angels here like _The Godfather_ with halos or something?

"I thought angels were supposed to be good." The blonde slayer grumbled, very bitterly. She'd never look at a cute angel costume for Halloween the same way again.

Sam chuckled. "You really _aren't_ from around here, aren't you?"

Castiel looked acutely uncomfortable. "My kind has been ... _idealized_ over the centuries." The angel informed her lamely, sounding more than a little awkward.

"They're basically dicks." Dean said, short and simple.

Wasn't _that_ the understatement of the century. Buffy scoffed and shook her heard, screwing her face in contempt. She was suddenly glad she'd never been a really religious person or else she'd be in a huge moral quandary right now.

"Before any more damage could be caused, a faction of angels rose up and wiped out the traitors to avoid a civil war. Zaphkiel was one of them." Castiel started up again with seriousness, back to detailing his story. "That's when Zaphkiel built his scythe. It allowed dimension-travelling with as little collateral damage as possible. He kept it safe and out of the wrong hands until he died."

The blonde slayer listened attentively, her cautious hope growing by the second. This was it. This was how she could go home and not risk hurting anyone. "Where's Zaphkiel's scythe now?" She asked.

A flash of discomfort erupted on the angel's face, then shifting straight into blank. " ... It was one of the heavenly weapons lost in the recent civil war in Heaven. It fell into obscurity for a while ... It was last reported somewhere in the Great Lakes region at a university. I don't know which university." Cas explained.

Dean looked dubious. "I thought you got all those heavenly nukes."

"Not _all_ of them." Cs said grimly.

"Wait." Sam cut in, raising his hand in halting gesture. "If you had an idea where it was, then why didn't you or the other angels get it already?" The younger Winchester asked, looking perplexed.

The angel looked uncomfortable. " ... It's been moved around. Continuously. With all the conflict going on in Heaven, it wasn't too difficult to lose track of it from time to time." Cas replied matter-of-factly. "It may have moved again. I'm not sure."

That wasn't much reassurance to Buffy, but that didn't dampen her spirits as much as it would have earlier. She shook her head. "No, it's okay. This is good. We know what to find and have a general area to look. That's more than what I had all week." The blonde justified feelingly.

Buffy knew nothing was guaranteed. God knows she _always_ knew that. But this was better than nothing. _Soo_ much better than nothing. At least she had a direction and that had been the main source of her frustration. The lack of it. So she wasn't going to wallow. Buffy was going to take that precious piece of advice Willow gave her just before she got booted out of Slayerville: kick Debbie Downer out.

"Well, alright. Let's go start up a search." Dean announced enthusiastically, clapping his hands together and suddenly very energized. The sight made Buffy smile a little. "It shouldn't be that hard looking for that university between the five of us."

The small blonde turned to Castiel. "Thanks for telling me about the scythe. I know it doesn't seem like much, but honestly ... it's a lot." Buffy told him graciously, smiling. She had ingrained dislike for angels already and she only met one but Castiel seemed different. He was friends with Sam and Dean after all and they had been nothing but kind to her.

Cas stared at her, some undecipherable but no less intense emotion in his eyes. After a long beat, he gave a terse and barely noticeable nod.

Before she could think about that, Sam's voice called. "Hey, Cas! You think you can describe Zaphkiel's scythe to us?" He was bunched up beside Dean, one of the chairs pulled up closer to his brother who was scrolling through the laptop. Their eyes were glued to the screen in focus. A tug of fondness for them pierced Buffy.

Castiel hesitated, glancing back at the small blonde one more time, then righted himself and walked towards the brothers wordlessly. Buffy only questioned this for a second, then shrugged it off and followed to join their little group huddle.

They had a page of a university directory detailing all the states around the Great Lakes region—Michigan, New York, Minnesota, Ohio, Pennsylvania, you get the drift—and apparently they had a lot of universities. A lot. One carrying an ancient scythe was very specific so you'd think that pop up, but nope. Castiel had identified specifics on the scythe dutifully, but still not that easy apparently.

The process had taken much longer than Buffy had anticipated. She lost count after three hours. Dean and Sam were handling this with remarkable patience, but the blonde slayer figured they were used to it. They doggedly remained with her though as she filed through the colleges. They only got up a few times, one of them being Dean getting a beer.

"Here. I think I found something." Sam said suddenly some time later, pulling up a college website. "University of Springfield. A broken down weapon kept in the history section used an ancient artifact and symbol of the Common Era people." He read off from the page.

"Hmm. Exotic." Dean deadpanned.

"That must be it." Castiel stated seriously.

Dim relief started to break through her boredom and slowly rising irritation, but the blonde didn't let it get there entirely. "Is it a scythe?" Buffy asked, leaning closer and barely restraining herself from taking over the laptop again (which she had done a one too many times).

Sam did some scrolling, then shook his head. "Doesn't say."

Her impatience nearly worsened, but she kept it in check. " _Okkaay_. Does it have a picture?" She questioned as calmly as possible, the slight edge to her voice telling her it hadn't been calm enough.

Some scrolling and opening pages. Again, the tall hunter shook his head. "No." He told her, looking a little regretful.

Buffy let out an annoyed, tight breath. That was not any of the information she needed. She needed specifics. The blonde didn't have the time nor the luxury to go all the way across the country, arrive to Illinois, only to find out this wasn't the scythe she was looking for or even the weapon she was looking for. It'd be her own personal Al Capone's vault minus the delusion.

Imagining that scenario was not a good idea. It only made her more agitated.

"Come on. It's the scythe." Dean stated, looking between her and Sam incredulously. "A college carrying around a medieval weapon like that? What else could it be?" He reasoned, throwing out his free hand.

Buffy pressed her lips in a thin line. " ... We don't know that." She reminded him reluctantly, just because it was the truth.

The small slayer rose and turned from the chair in frustrated movement, stepping out and crossing her arms. She took a few pacing steps then whirled back to them. "Why is it so hard to find this scythe? It's a _scythe_. Big on the danger, not so much with the subtlety!" Buffy went on irritably, throwing out her arms.

Sam shrugged apologetically, helpless with the situation. Cas's expression was distinguishably sympathetic.

Dean's look softened and after a moment, he handed out his beer to her. The action surprised Buffy so much she forgot what she was mad about a second. Realizing a little late he was offering her his alcohol, the blonde regrouped herself. "Uh ... thanks, but ... not traumatized enough for the numbing magic." She quipped awkwardly, not that big of a drinker.

Dean shrugged. _'Suit yourself'_ his expression said. Then he took a large swig of his beer.

Buffy stared at him disbelievingly, then shook her head and looked away.

Her frustration at the lack of details was resurfacing. She was _so_ tired of this. Tired of not knowing. But she had to remember a weapon at a university was better than _no_ weapon at a university. No matter how worried she was for her friends back at home ... this was a lead and any lead was worth checking. Even the vague, hit-or-miss ones.

It was going to be a long day in Illinois.

* * *

 **A/N:** **Suspense. ;) Trouble, trouble, Buffy is in deep trouble. I know I sound like a broken record, but I hope the characters are consistent to their canon selves. I cannot stress enough how important I find it in fanfics. I took a stab at Crowley and as much as I love him, he is _really_ hard to write. His humor is too brilliant to always honor properly and I'm scared he didn't come out right. Did he? :/**

 **I definitely delivered a lot of heavy plot. Do you understand now why this chapter's so important? We're getting deeper into the foreshadowing of something bad coming. The Naomi-Castiel scene I'm sure shocked you ... and that was the plan. ;) I decided to keep Castiel's mind control storyline, tweaking it for the sake of the fic. The main characters emotional arcs are mostly consistent with SPN S8 unless Buffy affects them in some way (ex. Dean). This fic _definitely_ isn't S8 with just Buffy inserted in it, but it does have elements of it still.**

 **Buffy/Dean will steadily gain more spotlight as the story goes ... I just see it as a slow burn couple ( _especially_ in this fic, but also in general). Dean's interest in women is usually just casual flings even when he cares about them and Buffy's not easily drawn into that. That's kind of what I appreciate about this couple. It's not easy** — **neither of them would ever make it easy** — **but there could be a really deep connection underneath all that and that's how I gained appreciation for Buffy/Dean.**

 **Next chapter is plot-orientated, nearly as much this one. We see what's gonna happen when Buffy goes looking for that universe scythe. I'll give you an hint. It ain't pretty.**

 **NEXT CHAPTER:** Spurned by Castiel's new information, Buffy is more determined than ever to return to her universe. Dean and Sam continue their search for Crowley and the mystery demon. Buffy sets out to Illinois with Castiel as her guide. What had started out as a only somewhat complicated mission becomes something much worse ... and terrifying.

 _ **Thanks for the 31 favorites, 59 follows, and 23 reviews! I love you all!**_


	6. Chapter 6: No Easy Way Out

**A/N: ** Hey readers! :) I'm back to updating. So sorry for the longer wait. Life just has a tendency to get in the way sometimes. Anyway, this next chapter is very plotty and finally introduces more about what kind of enemy we're dealing with ... action-packed and dramatic! :D After the way last chapter left off with Castiel and the dimension scythe, we'll see what Buffy's next move will be and how she's going to go around getting that. Get ready for all of it because this chapter's also pretty important. :)

Oh and for those of you who were wondering, Buffy does still have her slayer scythe. She didn't lose it in Chapter 2. I forgot to mention what happened to it so wrote the explanation in chapters two and four. In case anyone else wanted to know! :)

This chapter's named after " **No Easy Way Out"** by _**Robert** **Tepper**_ **,** which I was listening to when I wrote it. Great song and there's never enough love for the Rocky movies, but I mostly chose it because it reminds me of Supernatural. I'll do this occasionally. Name chapters after songs, like the show does. ;)

Enjoy the chapter!

 **Disclaimer: All rights of Supernatural and the Buffyverse belong to Joss Whedon and Eric Kripke. This fic is just for anyone like me who always wanted to see what it'd be like for our favorite brothers to meet Buffy. Just pure fun and wishful thinking. **

_**Constructive Criticism/OOCness warnings appreciated! :)**_

* * *

 _No Easy Way Out_

~~Dean~~

Dean loaded a clip into his gun, putting it on safety and securing it. His duffel bag laid across the bottom of his bed, zipped open. Some of his guns were already taken off the wall and put inside. The hunter slipped his demon knife in the inside of his jacket, then grabbed the holy water and shoved it in.

 _That should be it for the demon prep. When we start tracking down Crowley, we'll be ready._ The Winchester thought, giving his weapons another once-over. He nodded to himself in satisfaction. With the prophecy and with Kevin almost done translating the tablet, time was ticking. They had to find Crowley.

Of course Dean knew better to believe Crowley was the definite object of this prophecy. That mystery demon was a cause of concern and needed to be tracked down just as much, more actually. Him and Sam were keeping an eye out. Nothing surfaced yet. But with Crowley, at least they could track down a trail. There was never a shortage of his demons to interrogate.

Dean puffed out a breath, bracing himself for the next road-trip. Zipping the bag closed, the hunter threw the bag over his shoulder and walked out his bedroom. The Winchester crossed through the hallway to head downstairs, passing several rooms.

Then something caught his eye. Dean slowly stopped, turning his head. Buffy's makeshift bedroom had it's door wide open. No one was inside. The edge of the bed though was in view, revealing an opened duffel bag. A long weapon was half on top of it, narrow and red and ending on a blade-like edge.

Surprise washed over Dean as he eyed the distinguishable weapon. The Winchester did a wide gesture of looking around, making sure a certain blonde didn't have him in sight. Sucking in a deep breath and trying to look particularly nonchalant, Dean edged himself towards the bedroom.

The hunter stopped at the foot of the bed and stared down at the weapon. It was completely unlike anything he'd ever seen before. A combination of an axe and ... was that a _stake_ on the end?

Not ever able to help himself, The Winchester picked it up. It felt old and heavy in his hands. "The hell is this thing?" He mumbled, mystified as he studied it's odd workmanship. He poked the stake edge lightly, then ran his fingers on the axe part. Surprise hit Dean at the particular sharpness of both, including the stake.

The Winchester smirked. "Heh. World's Most Glorified Farm Tool." Dean said dryly, twirling it a bit in his hands. Honestly he was impressed. He didn't know what the hell this thing was except that it was old and could gut through you like you were butter ... but it was _cool_.

Dean shifted his grip on it. He swiped the weapon in swiftly the air with a concentrated look, slashing upwards as if hitting ab invisible enemy. He slashed it a couple more times in different directions. He felt a smile on his face, enjoying how it moved. It was a little medieval, but no doubt came in handy when hunting. _How'd Blondie score something like this?_

"Having fun?"

Dean froze. He lowered the weapon and turned quickly. Buffy was watching him from the doorway. She was dressed in a simple cream-colored camisole with dark brown jeans and boots, her blonde hair tied up in a high ponytail. She was fixing him with a hard and unimpressed look, seeping disbelief.

 _Whoops._ The hunter thought, having the grace to feel self-conscious. He hoped she hadn't seen the whole show.

"I was just ... uh ..." The Winchester said before he could think, holding the weapon with only one hand now. Buffy's pointedly raised brow stopped him in his tracks. Dean chuckled nervously. "You got me." He admitted in amusement, trying to lighten the awkwardness.

The blonde slayer gave a roll of her eyes and walked over. She snatched her weapon out of his hands. " _Don't_ touch that." Buffy told him, her words coming out in an exasperated sigh.

"What is that? Some kind of revamped axe-thing?" He asked, his curiosity not the slightest bit dampened.

"It's a scythe." The pretty blonde told him.

 _Well, that's gotta be the weirdest scythe_ I've _ever seen._ Dean couldn't help but think, noting it's color and the stake at the end of it. Then immediately after that, he had another thought. "Wait. _Scythe_? Not the one you're after, right?" He asked skeptically, narrowing his eyes.

"I wish." Buffy muttered bitterly under her breath, shoving a sharpening block into her duffel bag. He guessed she had been sharpening her weapon just before. "No, it's not. That's a whole other thing. This one's all Buffy." She explained with a little less cynical edge.

Dean was intrigued. "Well, whatever _Weapons-R-Us_ you go to ... hook me up. 'Cause that thing is _badass_." He praised, smiling widely as he gestured to the scythe.

Unexpectedly a smile came to Buffy's face. " _You?_ Mr. Guns Blazing-Probably-Sleeps-With-One-Under-His-Pillow?" The blonde teased, amusement in her eyes.

Dean smirked. " ... I come in many different flavors." He remarked in dramatic humor, doing a sweeping gesture with his hand. She wasn't wrong about the gun part though. He'd be crazy not to.

Buffy shook her head, smiling wider still.

Dean was pleased. She liked his humor. That was a start. _So the Ice Queen does have a charm side ..._ Dean thought in satisfaction, mentally writing down notes for later.

While Dean was sizing up the situation with her with just as much dedication as he did hunting, Buffy put her scythe in her duffel. "Sorry to bum you out, but this scythe's kinda one in million. It was forged ... passed down the line ... it's a long story." She explained, zipping her bag closed. "So forget _Weapons-R-Us_ , even if you cross _universes_ ..."

The hunter suddenly became distracted. In his ever-roving eyes, he caught two puncture holes side by side on the left side of her neck. They were jagged, deep and clearly defined. The marks were old and healed over by scar tissue.

The sudden observation surprised Dean. Buffy's skin, other than that, visually seemed flawless.

"Those slayer amino acids of yours can't heal over scar tissue?" Dean asked impulsively, purely out of curiosity as he gestured to her neck. The scar was obviously from a monster. He knew that the moment he saw it.

Buffy's whole body went rigid, her mouth drawn in tight line. Her eyes were suddenly fixed on the duffel bag as if the most interesting thing in the world.

 _Uh-oh. Wrong thing to say._ Dean realized quickly, acutely conscious of the sudden mood change. He should've known. Girls never liked their scars to be pointed out, especially by men.

The Winchester raised his hands calmingly. "Hey, no judgment from me, alright? It happens. Got plenty of them myself." The hunter clarified, keeping his face nonchalant as he tried to stress how much he really didn't mind. A little scar tissue here and there didn't make her any less attractive.

Buffy didn't respond. She reached for her neck, her hand stroking her scar absently. She didn't speak for several moments. "It was ... a long time ago." She finally said, her tone listless.

Dean watched this unsurely. Her gaze was suddenly dark and bottomless, plagued by memories he couldn't begin to guess. He didn't know what to make of it, only now he found himself regretting he ever said anything.

"Well, you're still standing. Whatever monster got a chunk out of you ... you showed him, I bet." He offered, trying to be comforting.

Buffy jerked her head up at him. Her green gaze was blazing with sudden, smoldering rage. The sight confused and startled Dean so much he leaned back, worried he was about to get hit.

The blonde slayer's eyes shot sparks, but she didn't move. " ... I'm leaving and finding that scythe in Illinois. Don't wait up." Buffy declared curtly.

Surprise pierced through Dean at her remark. Before he could even speak, the small blonde swung her duffel bag around her shoulder and snatched a laptop off the bedside table. She thrust it towards him. "Here's your laptop back." Buffy muttered with an edge.

Dean took it uncertainly and as soon as he did, the fiery blonde whipped around and headed out the doorway.

The Winchester stood rooted to the spot a moment, frowning. Caught in an odd state of ' _What the hell just happened?'_. Soon enough awareness of the situation punctured through. Reluctance and worry plagued him suddenly. He tried to shake it off. It didn't work.

 _I'm gonna regret this._ Dean thought ruefully, sucking in a breath to brace himself as he headed out of the room after Buffy. He hadn't just pissed off another hunter, but a _slayer-_ hunter. God knows why she'd be that touchy over a _scar_ , but she was. Not the best bet to follow after her ... but _'to hell with it'_ had always been his philosophy.

The Winchester caught Buffy in the hall, just as she was about to go downstairs. He hurried to catch up to her. "Are you gonna be hunting?" He called after her, his voice raised slightly but still carefully even.

That gave the pretty blonde pause. She stopped with one hand on the railing, back still turned to him. Dean approached further with caution.

Buffy glanced back at him, her expression solemn. "I'm just trying to find that scythe. If I run across a little monster mayhem along the way, then ... " The small blonde trailed away meaningfully, shrugging and throwing out an arm.

It was self-explanatory. The hunter felt a frown coming on. "Yeah, that's not a good idea ..." He began with a shake of his head.

The blonde slayer whirled around. "I _know_ how to take care of myself." Buffy retorted, an edge to her voice as she stared him down warningly.

 _One little suggestion and she's already hissing and spittin'._ The Winchester thought dryly. He wasn't surprised though. He had expected it. This girl was nothing if not attitude, especially after that little display in her room.

"Yeah, yeah, I got the down low. Girl power, super punches. Good for you." Dean acknowledged uncaringly, throwing out a hand as he fixed her with a look. "But you just hopped the proverbial universe express. You know how to fight _your_ kinds of crazy. You don't know squat from shinola about ours." The Winchester told her seriously.

Buffy watched him with crossed arms, a hard look on her face. "Then feed me all the lore you got 'cause I'm not running away. If I find a monster, I'm slaying it. No yellow tape." The blonde said in finality.

He couldn't help it. Dean smiled, enjoying Buffy's brave and no-nonsense attitude. The defiant and stubborn set to her features reminded him of another young blonde. One who's first introduction involved hitting him in the face with a gun and who died far before her time before they knew if they were ever anything.

 _She's a lot like Jo._ The hunter thought. Tiny, hot, blonde, feisty, and had no qualms kicking his ass. Wistfulness as well as a twinge of guilt touched Dean's heart, like it always did when he thought back on his dead friend but he kept the bittersweet memories in check. Jo comparisons ... _bad_ territory.

His somewhat faltering swagger rejuvenated in a blink. "That I can do." He responded in amusement, smirking as he gave an agreeing tilt of his head. He eyed her a moment before he walked with her down the staircase. "Better hope you're not a crap student." Dean said more briskly. " 'Cause you got a _lot_ to brush up on ..."

No sooner were the two of them in the communication room when Dean heard Sam calling his name. The Winchester tracked the voice towards the library with Buffy following curiously after him. His brother was in his typical location: buried in his laptop with some leftover breakfast fast food from this morning.

As soon as they stopped beside him, Sam didn't waste a moment. "Hey, I think I caught us something. Five people gone missing in the past few weeks, found mauled. Chalked up as animal attacks." The brown-haired hunter recapped. "But get this. Their hearts were ripped out." He said feelingly, expression pointed.

Buffy frowned. "Ew."

A sigh was building in his throat. Dean nodded ruefully. "Werewolf."

Sam shrugged. "It _is_ around the lunar cycle."

"Wait. Werewolf _valentines_?" Buffy cut in, raising her hand in a halting gesture. She looked between them in bewilderment. "Wouldn't they just get all rampagey and start tearing limb from limb? Why stop at the heart?" The blonde slayer asked.

A twinge of irritation burst in Dean for more unnecessary questions. The older Winchester turned to face Buffy. "New rules, okay? New rules." He told her simply in a somewhat terse voice, throwing out his hands.

The pretty blonde frowned in dissatisfaction. Before she could throw out more questions (which he _knew_ was coming), Dean looked to his brother. "I'm not sure we have time to put down Fido, Sammy. We still gotta look for any new information on Crowley or ... whatever the hell that other thing is." He voiced skeptically.

Sam's face fell a bit. "And there's also the prophecy. Right." He added on resignedly, nodding his head reluctantly. "But it's still a case, Dean. I mean, we can't just leave it here."

Dean almost scoffed, struck at the irony of _Sam_ _of all people_ saying that. But he repressed the mocking thought and focused on the matter. Sure, taking on a case like that was normally fine with him. Now though he was uncertain. Was that really a good idea with all this prophecy crap now? They didn't look for information on Crowley and that mystery demon. They hadn't done that yet since they saw Kevin.

"You should probably focus on finding those demons." Buffy suddenly chipped in, her look serious. "Big demon player hi-jinx overrules one pesky monster." She reasoned, voice matter-of-fact.

 _Now you're reading my mind._ Dean thought whimsically. Of course, there was that part of him that naturally felt guilty about that werewolf because it was obviously going to kill more people ... but Crowley and renegade demon came first. With this new prophecy, they had to.

Sam was studying Buffy, curiosity in his eyes as he caught the duffel bag slung over her shoulders. "Heading out?"

Buffy nodded. "Off on my ye old scythe quest to Illinois."

That reminder jolted Dean. "But she might run into a few monsters along the way. So since Miss Independent here won't duck and hide, I say we enroll her in the Winchester School of Hard Knocks." The hunter told his brother meaningfully.

The younger Winchester nodded. "Right. Teaching her how to hunt here." He screwed up his face in thought. "Uh ... we're gonna have to break it down. There's a lot of monsters ... a lot of ways to kill them ... honestly to know it all, it'd take months. Longer actually." Sam admitted matter-of-factly.

Buffy was undeterred. "I can do without the longer. Just give me the basic, run-of-the mill monster facts."

Dean exchanged a glance with Sam, both weighing where to start. "Well ... the biggest pain in the asses? Angels and demons. We'll start there." The hunter began meaningfully.

"So we enter the clichés." The small blonde quipped. She slowly crossed her arms, her green gaze on the brothers sharp and attentive. "Hit me."

"Well, you already know a little about the demons. Black eyes, strong, leave behind sulfur, can't be killed by a lot. Then there's black smoke. Another dead giveaway." His younger brother recapped. "Angels ... they're a little different. Usually stronger. They smite you. One touch, a white light, and you're dead instantly."

Buffy took this all in in morbid fascination.

"But the thing with demons and angels is you still can't always see them coming. So you gotta stock up on your defenses. Twenty-four hours a day, nine-to-five, you got me?" Dean took the reins from his brother, his eyes resting on Buffy meaningfully. "For demons ... better get used to packing salt, especially on the road."

The interest in the small blonde's expression abruptly evaporated. She frowned deeply. " _Sooo_ ... I scare them off by spike-salting their TV dinners?" Despite her quirky description, she looked genuinely baffled.

Sam smiled amusedly and gave a gentle shake of his head. "Demons can't cross lines of salt. Comes in handy for protection, especially in motels. Line the whole room with salt and they won't be able to make it inside." The brown-haired hunter clarified.

Buffy stared at them blankly. "Uh ... okay. Condiment repellant. Check." She forced out when she snapped out of her daze. She quickly focused back on the brothers. "Now does that include fast food salt packages or do we need to go all kosher?"

Dean thought she was being sarcastic at first, but after seeing the look on her face he caught the innocence in the question. He smiled. This girl was cute. "Salt's salt. Cheap or gourmet." He told her, amused.

"Good ... I guess." The small blonde said lamely. She lapsed into quiet a moment, a deep frown etched on her face. Finally ... " _Really_? _Salt?_ My extra-mega-new demon protection is _'Condiments Have the Power'_?" Buffy burst out, her incredulity finally leaking through.

The Winchester was uncaring. "Hey. Watch when it saves your ass." He said as he pointed to her, giving her a meaningful look.

"It works, trust us." Sam responded, brisk again. "Holy water is another thing, and iron. But if you ever really want to avoid demons or angels ... hex bags, for sure. Have that on you and they're not gonna find you."

Dean nodded, clucking his tongue in agreement. "Hex bags ... definitely on the grocery list. With Crowley and his demons out looking for you, you're gonna need that if you're gonna get _anywhere_."

"Hex bags?" Buffy looked suddenly uneasy. "You mean like magick?"

The older Winchester noticed her change in mood. He narrowed his eyes. "You're friends with the _Blair Witch_ , then the first sign of magic and you're getting squirmy?" He challenged disdainfully.

The blonde quickly shook her head. "No, it's ... I'm just not with the whole magick recipes or magick-y ... _anything_. It's like literally my worst supernatural subject." She admitted uncomfortably.

"Well, step-by-step, right?" Sam offered, throwing out his hand. "We'll get you there. Eventually."

Dean sucked in a breath, his expression twisted in thought as he tried to think of anything he left out. He snapped his fingers as he remembered. "Oh, and, uh, Devil's Traps. Draw that on the ground somewhere, get a demon inside it, and it'll trap it."

Buffy's blank, uncomprehending look said volumes. Sam rose from the chair, walking towards one of the tables in the room. He came back with a pad of notebook paper and pen, seating himself in the chair again. He scribbled something on it fast.

"This is a Devil's Trap." His younger brother said, pushing the notebook towards her.

The blonde slayer pulled it closer to her cautiously, studying the drawing of a Devil's Trap with solemn intrigue for a long moment. Sam suddenly threw the pen over to her. It landed on the top of the pad, startling Buffy who jumped slightly. The pretty blonde raised her head at him with a frown.

His younger brother's expression was meaningful. "You might wanna start writing all this down."

Dean, his arms crossed, nodded. "Damn straight. This is just the demons weaknesses. Wait 'till you get to the _angels_. No way you're gonna remember all this." The older hunter agreed, tone blatantly matter-of-fact as he shook his head. "And those are just the top players. The littler leagues ... boatloads of lore there too."

Buffy's enthusiasm seemed to slowly wither and die as she absorbed the reality of their words. The blonde slayer was looking disgruntled now, her eyes flicking towards the drawn Devil's Trap with dissatisfaction. "Right ... Slayer training reboot. Watcher training lessons all over again." She described blandly.

Dean couldn't stop a smirk from coming. "Too much for you?" He asked in mock concern.

The blonde slayer fixed him with sharp look, then smiled back at him just as insincerely. "I'm a monster-slaying sponge. Next thing you know, I'll be better than you." Buffy responded boldly, the challenge not veiled.

"Yeah. Keep dreaming, Blondie." Dean said with his own confidence, shaking his head and smirking. He uncrossed his arms and straightened. "Alright. Next lesson from Professor Winchester ..." He broke off, noticing Buffy already writing things down on the next notebook page.

At the pause, Buffy stopped her furious writing and raised her eyes to the brothers. She regarded him and Sam flatly a moment, then made an exaggerated motion with her hand for them to continue. "Alright, _Dewey Finn,_ _Mr. Keating_ ... feed me."

 **####**

Some time later Sam and Dean finished out with the lessons, still in the library and watching as the blonde packed up her duffel bag with purpose. Salt, silver knives, holy water, other weapons (except guns ... she _still_ refused guns), all her notes. Since Buffy owned nothing except a couple outfits and her weird scythe, the brothers had to stock her up with their weapons. It wasn't too bad. Him and his brother always made a habit to have more than one supply available. Dean only hoped she was smart with it.

Dean had never really considered himself the teaching type. He didn't usually have the patience for it. That was more Sam's thing. But Buffy had been more or less easy to manage the rest of the lesson. She still seemed a little put-out and her snark of course _never turned off_ , but no complaining or nagging questions. Plus she was hot and if there was one thing Dean could always make time for, it was a pretty girl.

He and Sam hadn't told Buffy everything about _every_ monster. To know all that had taken their childhood/teenage years and they were _still_ learning. They weren't miracle workers. But they had told her the most important information and that was satisfying enough for Dean.

The blonde slayer gave her bag another interrogative look, then straightened and took a deep breath. She turned back to the brothers. "So ... the main demon kill shot. Handy, right?" The small blonde suddenly prompted. She walked to Dean and stood in front of him. "Gimme." She requested, outstretching her hand.

Surprise flashed over Dean as well as a little wariness. "What?"

Buffy didn't even blink. "Y'know, the magic knife. I know you always keep it on you." The slayer responded matter-of-factly, shocking the Winchester yet again. "I'm not sure if my scythe would work on them and with the _Evil Dead_ crew probably out to get me ... I kinda need to borrow a spare."

The small blonde moved again to take it, but the Winchester leaned away. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. No touch." Dean replied sternly, his hand in his jacket as he gripped his knife protectively. "This don't come in spares. It's our one and only. You ain't getting this." He told her point-blank, unfalteringly firm.

The slayer made an impatient noise in her throat, lowering her arm. "Then _how_ am I supposed to kill them?"

In answer, Sam shuffled around in his own jacket and threw her his angel blade. Buffy caught it with ease, eyes widening as she stared at it. "Take mine. It's called an angel blade. It'll kill angels and demons too." At the blonde's hesitant glance, the brown-haired hunter smiled softly. "Don't worry. It's fine. We made sure to collect a couple spares over the years."

Buffy frowned thoughtfully, looking the angel blade up and down as if assessing it's damage points. Finally she sighed, flipping it absent-mindedly in her hand as she turned to her her duffel. "Thanks for angelic _Excalibur_." She replied graciously, packing it with the rest of her stuff. "Hopefully I'm not gonna need it ... but we all know how talk like _that_ goes."

Sam shrugged. "At least you'll be ready. That's the important thing."

The pretty blonde nodded, though didn't look reassured. She shuffled went through her duffel for a few moments, checking one last time to make sure she had everything. She sighed heavily. "This is all so freaky. New rules, new monsters ... a seriously weird powder obsession." She began wearily. "Why is everything in this world have to be so _complicated_?!" Buffy muttered in frustration, zipping her bag with a little more force than necessary.

Dean threw up his hands. "Hey. We didn't make the rules. We just follow the script." He replied sensibly, straight-faced.

His sense apparently annoyed her. She huffed bad-temperedly. "In _my_ world ..."

Now it was his turn to be irritated. "This ain't your world!" Dean berated instantaneously, his tone sharp. "Do we gotta bust out a slideshow? Things are different!" He went on impatiently. He couldn't help his snappishness. He was just growing tired of her constant complaining.

"He's right, Buffy. We know all this takes a lot of ... _adjusting_. But it can't be helped, y'know? You're already _here_." Sam backed up, not devoid of sympathy but still firm and honest.

The small blonde said nothing. Dean's temper watered down when he noticed the sudden weariness in her eyes. She sighed again. "I _know_ , okay? I get it. Things happen ... I'm dealing." Buffy answered tiredly. "It just gets a little _tired_ , okay? I mean, I never thought I'd miss _anything_ back at home, but ..."

Dean perked up at this, subtly surprised at her choice of words. _She didn't think she'd miss home?_ It seemed to him like Buffy did nothing _but_ miss her universe, especially her friends. And she thought she _wouldn't_? It made him suddenly wonder what was so bad about her life at home besides the obvious (the hunting life).

"Well, good thing you're not staying here. 'Cause you aren't. Happy endings all around." The Winchester replied, his tone dry but firm as he fixed her with a serious look.

"I know." The blonde said just as solemnly. She paused, lowering her eyes as thoughtfulness gathered in her features. Wistfulness softened her gaze. "It's just ... _my_ world. Patrolling graveyards every night ... beating up and dicing the skeevy demons ... and vampires. Stake through the heart. Now _that's_ the life."

Even though Dean obviously saw the yearning behind her words, he couldn't stop the contempt bubbling in him at her description. He scoffed. "Yeah. Vampires and stakes ... classic _Bram Stoker_ World." He mocked, so incredulous he actually chuckled a little. It sounded so bad it was actually funny.

Buffy looked at him through a narrowed glare. "Nothing wrong with traditional, Dean." She sniped back in an even but still hard tone.

"You kidding? Stakes, Dracula, monsters that look like monsters, lethal sunbathing? That crap's supposed to fly? It's cliché!" The older hunter argued incredulously, throwing out his hand. He shook his head. "Completely in-the-box. Boring as hell if you ask me." He declared bluntly.

Sure. Demons actually _looking_ like demons and being easier to kill was one thing he wouldn't mind trading. Not like him and Sam ever liked killing off a human every time they killed off a demon. In fact, the fact her world was so much easier on that front pissed Dean off and he even resented it. But it still didn't sound very believable. More like a fairytale.

The blonde's glower strengthened. "Better the classics then new-agey, faux-trendy." Buffy retorted bitingly.

Dean smirked slowly, his attitude leaving him as he relished the realization she was actually offended. Amusement filled him and he shook his head reprovingly. "Yeah, you're a hipster." The Winchester said sardonically.

Sam was watching the back and forth banter with alienated disbelief. "Uh, guys ... getting off topic." He broke in uncomfortably, meaning in his tone all the same.

 _Always gotta be a buzzkill, Sammy._ The older Winchester thought, though didn't necessarily disagree. He just found it funny how touchy this Buffy chick was. It oddly entertained him.

His younger brother turned to Buffy, who was still glaring at Dean. Not the hunter himself particularly cared. "So you got everything for your trip? Weapons, everything else?" Sam prompted.

Buffy blinked, then gave a small smile. "Why _yes_ , honey. Just waiting for that sack lunch, then ... off to work." The blonde quipped, amusement in her voice as she raised an eyebrow. Self-consciousness crossed his brother's face which only made the blonde smile wider. "Sorry. Couldn't resist." She stated playfully. Sam smiled shyly. "Yes, I am pretty sure I have everything." The slayer assured more genuinely, nodding.

"Good. But you'll have to go to Illinois without us." Sam informed her.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. We're up to our necks with Crowley and the demons. First come, first serve." He agreed, sobering as he remembered the severity of those problems. "If you _really_ ever need help ..." He went on meaningfully.

"I don't need your help." Buffy said decisively.

The abrupt and entirely matter-of-fact tone set Dean off a little. He gauged her incredulously. "Well, sorry to bruise your delicate female sensibilities ..." The Winchester responded snarkily, offended.

Buffy fixed him with a narrow stare, certainly about to deliver her own barb, but Sam once again drew it to a halt. "Look, will you guys quit flirting?" He interrupted with attitude of his own, looking deeply unimpressed by the petty bickering. He turned back to Buffy. "That's _fine_." He assured her quickly, his arm out calmingly.

The blonde rolled her eyes at Dean. "Listen, _Tony DiNozzo_. I don't _want_ your help because you helped enough." She clarified curtly. "You two gave me a lead. Now I have to be the one to track it. You guys need to focus on your own problems." Buffy elaborated. Her expression grew stern. "You save your world ... I'll save mine."

Dean relaxed, finally understanding. Buffy wasn't thinking she was better than them and being ungrateful. She was just looking at the situation practically. They both had their own thing going on and needed to get it done themselves. A little bit of relief punctured through the hunter too. At least she understood. They didn't need to feel guilty over not going with her.

The hunter shrugged. "I can get behind that." He agreed nonchalantly. He straightened. "First thing's first though ..." He began with more meaning, heading towards back of the library.

Dean stopped at one of the desks where they kept a large box filled with their cell phones. The hunter kneeled down and picked it up, walking back over towards them and setting it on the table. Buffy was staring at the box curiously, trying to get a better peek at it. Dean rummaged inside it with purpose. Finally he came up with a outdated gray-and-black striped flip phone.

"Since your cell can't get alternate reality reception ... you're gonna need one of these." The older Winchester said matter-of-factly, holding it up. "Sam and I hard-wired all numbers in this thing just in case." He informed her, handing out the phone towards her. "If things go bad and crap _really_ starts hitting the fan, you call us."

Buffy took it obligingly, studying the phone thoughtfully in her hand. "Mmm. Good to know I'm hooked up with a hunter _Verizon Wireless_." The blonde slayer joked with a smile, flipping it open and pushing some of the buttons.

Dean gave an agreeing tilt of his head. "Business is booming." He said dryly, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Thanks." The slayer answered, looking more grateful. She flipped the phone closed and put it in her pocket. "Hopefully I'll bring it back in one piece and not the smashy bits ... n-n-not that I do that a lot. Break phones." Buffy went on, nervousness tainting her tone as she tried to look innocent.

Both brothers were entertained by her obvious transparency. Sam shook his head. "Wouldn't dream of it." His younger brother remarked, undertones of amusement in his voice. "Cas's number is in there too. You should really call him, especially if you find the scythe. He'll walk you through on how to use it."

Buffy nodded thoughtfully. She seemed a bit distracted "So ... uh ... about that werewolf you were talking about before ..." She brought up a little hesitantly, sounding vaguely uncomfortable. "Say it's probably still gonna kill ... and I might kinda be curious where it is?" She asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Missouri. Pleasant Valley." Sam informed matter-of-factly.

The pretty blonde nodded again, looking like she was mulling that one over. Finally she shrugged. "Eh, I'm going that way anyway." Buffy responded, suddenly casual as she put the duffel bag's strap back on her shoulders. Before the brothers could react, the slayer was already turning and walking towards the staircase. "See ya!"

Sam and Dean both stood there, startled into silence by her sudden switch from awkward to cavalier until the blonde had trudged up the stairs and disappeared altogether through the Men of Letters exit. A warm feeling came over Dean and he broke into a slow smile. _Damn is this chick likeable. I might actually be starting to get used to her ..._ He thought almost fondly.

The Buffy effect didn't just end with him. Sam was also smiling after the blonde in careful affection. Finally the Winchesters exchanged an incredulous glance, amused look on their faces as they were both thinking the exact same thing ...

"Hunter. Definitely." Sam remarked with certainty, still amused.

"Might be more hunter than _both_ of us." Dean agreed with feeling.

His younger brother shook his head. "She's ... definitely a piece of work." He said lamely, sounding like he didn't know how else to describe her.

Dean nodded. "Hot though."

* * *

~~Buffy~~

 _*Pleasant Valley, Missouri*_

"Now I'd really, _really_ like to just get one thing straight." Buffy declared, raising one arm in mock peace as her other one pointed the silver knife. She was circling her enemy, not once lowering her weapon. "Did you catch mange or just happen to moisturize with too much _WEN_? 'Cause _honestly_ ..."

The red-headed monster, it's animalistic eyes slitted and glazed over with bloodlust, gave a savage snarl and lunged at the slayer. It came flying towards her, claws and teeth bared. Buffy dodged it's clawed hands effortlessly, matching it's speed as she slashed it with the knife. The female animal growled in pain, it's attempt to rip out her jugular thwarted as a shallow cut bled and sizzled on her chest. Buffy let loose a sweeping kick to it's side.

" ... you're looking a lot less of the furry and intimidating and more the weepy chicken variety." The blonde said with feeling, watching as the creature stumbled. "I mean really. _You're_ a werewolf?" Buffy sailed her silver knife back at the creature as she was locked in flurry of dodges, kicks, and snarls. Finally she kicked it away harshly. "I mean, more low maintenance? Okay, _sure_. But your cousins in Buffyland _actually_ know how to be scary." She taunted, walking back towards her.

With a burst of speed and agility, the female "werewolf" leapt at her. The slayer startled, not able to react in time to stop the claws catch her arm. Before the claw marks could get worse, Buffy latched on it's wrists. She struggled against it's strength a moment before finally kneeing the creature powerfully in the stomach with both knees.

It snarled angrily as it's grip loosened. The blonde took the opening, aiming for the heart, but this werewolf was stubborn and more importantly pissed. She dodged the fatal blow, punching the slayer in side of her stomach. Buffy felt the breath knocked out of her and before she knew it claws dug into her shoulders and threw her brutally to side.

Unluckily, Buffy collided straight with the nearby wooden fence, her body completely splintering through the beam on impact. She landed in a heap of broken wood and wood chips into someone's farm pasture. The blonde slayer groaned and sat up, hurting all over and prickling with discomfort from the splinters. Furious growls brought her back to reality as the werewolf rushed her with unsettling speed, ready to finish her off. Her eyes widened.

 _Avoidtheteeth, Avoidtheteeth_ —

Snatching a sturdy piece of the broken fence, Buffy stood to her feet and smacked the werewolf solidly in the chin with all her strength. She grunted in frustration as she hit it in the face a few more times, leaving it snarling and even more furious. The last hit send it crashing it to the ground. The small slayer threw the piece of wood aside, glaring down at the monster with fiery determination.

"Okay, Wolf Wonder. So gene pool not entirely universe opposite. Brutal, big on the rage, not so much with the talky." The blonde admitted grudgingly. "This was all very educational. Now I'm _bored_." Buffy said with steel snark, reclaiming her knife as she advanced towards the regrouping werewolf.

The creature was wounded now, she could tell. This was it.

Defiant to the end, the red-headed werewolf barred it's teeth and charged. The small slayer dodged the flimsy attempt with ease, then send a crushing knee into it's stomach. She felt and heard the crack of ribs under the pressure. The angry wolf floundered and foamed at the mouth, losing all sense of focus as it tried to bite and claw her in every direction.

Buffy moved out of range, catching one flailing arm and bending it back painfully. "My final Buffy obedience school lesson ..." The slayer drawled out lightly, twisting her knife and swinging. It connected to the heart with dead-on accuracy. "Play dead."

The female werewolf's body stiffened. Buffy ripped the knife out, instinctively stepping back as the monster snarled it's piteous death cry and collapsed into the ground. Blood rapidly began staining the grass it was lying on.

The blonde just stood there over the body, the adrenaline of battle still pumping through her veins. She looked around, nervous at the prospect of witnesses. No one was hanging around the road and the cars zipping past were just few and far between enough to not be worrisome. Horses stood further away into the pasture, oblivious to their broken fence. No angry farmers were yelling. She was lucky it was nighttime.

Buffy instinctively put a hand to her hair, feeling it's now rat's nest status as she fingered a piece of wood tangled in it's blonde locks. She threw it the ground in disgust and worked to get the rest of the wood out, making a face all the while. She did the same to her clothes, feeling a particular bout of embarrassment and girly repulsion as she ripped out a particularly long piece out of the back of her jeans.

Multiple splinters were stabbing into her skin through her clothes and she could feel her back bruising. She had a couple claw marks, shallow but no less unsightly, but no bites. Ignoring the fact she felt like she fell asleep on the wrong side of a wood chipper, at least she wasn't turning into a werewolf anytime soon.

Three days had passed since she split up from Sam and Dean. Missouri had been on the way and true to her suspicions, the werewolf had killed again. Naturally she had stepped up. Slaying without the brothers had been liberating and even a little exciting at first. She could finally do things the way _she_ wanted, breaking into their private files and gaining information on the murder cases. No fake badge, FBI outfit, or talking to families. Instead she had tracked it. It finally felt like ... _home_.

Of course there had still been ... hiccups. Enough to remind her this actually _wasn't_ home (and also enough to never tell the brothers themselves about it). But if Buffy was anything it was stubborn. She had been determined this time to do it her way one way or another and she did.

Try as she might though her defiance and wayward sense of accomplishment hadn't been rock solid. After brushing up on the werewolf facts, Buffy's "break free" montage started melting away into very real alienation. The werewolves here weren't the werewolves she knew. Maybe silver still killed them, but they were ... _different_ somehow. When she first caught wind of the creature, she honestly hadn't been sure it even _was_ a werewolf. She still wasn't.

In her most overwhelmed moment, Buffy had actually _wanted_ Sam and Dean back. Almost like her one security blanket in this very weird and unfamiliar world ... and god, as far as anyone else was concerned, you never heard that from her, alright?

But that was then and this was now. She hadn't given into that one moment of weakness no matter how much she felt like she was tripping over her own feet in this place. She had slayed without them. The rules may be different, but Buffy wasn't.

The blonde slayer's gaze fell to the body on the ground. It's teeth and claws had disappeared. The slit-like blue wolf eyes had receded into glazed over, unseeing green. A shiver passed through her spine. _She looks so human ..._ Buffy couldn't help but think, her expression falling as she wanted to look away but couldn't.

 _'It's because she was human.'_ A voice whispered to her in the back of her mind.

Werewolves were monsters, but a part of them was human too. They had a normal life outside of the lunar cycle. It wasn't their fault they got bit or went on rampages which they scarcely ever remembered anyway. This girl probably hadn't known what she was doing. She could've been a sweet, generous person with her whole life ahead of her. A life she had cut down, cut down when her only fault had been bad luck.

The truth of the matter was though you could twist this into a moral crisis and preach against it as much and as loud as you wanted, but in reality it didn't make a single bit of a difference. The _monster_ part was always the part that mattered. It didn't matter if she had a human side or if it had even been her fault. The monster had killed and the monster had to be killed. Always would be.

Buffy knew this now with the harsh experience of ten, painful years. Yet, even with all the sound logic in the world, something in the slayer still felt colder inside. She had _toyed_ with this thing, mocking it and killing it without a second thought. She couldn't help but think it shouldn't have been that easy. That she should've hesitated, that she should feel _worse_ than she did. Once she would've ...

The blonde stepped away from the body, taking all her strength to finally look away from it. _I have to go home. I need to find that scythe. I need to do whatever it takes to get back._ Buffy told herself with more force, steeling her expression into an impassive mask.

Shaking the blood still dripping off her blade, the blonde slayer slipped it into her jean waistband, turned away, and disappeared into the night. She didn't look back.

 _ **####**_

Buffy was lost in thought, her gaze unfocused as dark blue cheap leather faced her. Mid-day sunlight was streaming through the small windows scattered through the public bus, lighting the pairs of people on each side. Loud, chattering voices filled the large vehicle. Buffy was seated on the right side by a window alone, her duffel bag taking up the space beside her.

The idea of a comfortable night's rest at a sleazy Missouri motel after her long day yesterday would've been great, if not naively optimistic. Sleep didn't seem to come to her much these days no matter where she was. But Buffy had kept the protocol of cleaning up and sharpening her weapons and then the new protocol of lining her entire room with salt (windows included). Still weird and she felt particularly bad for the maids, but Sam and Dean had been firm about it. _They_ were the experts here.

Her series of imperfect and misfortunate events didn't end there. Travelling from Kansas all the way to Illinois was not at all easy, especially when you didn't have a car, a job, or knew anybody _anywhere_. She had been making it through cabs and buses with the only money to her name the dirty leftover credit card scams of the Winchesters Dean had _insisted_ she use. Buffy was still in Missouri, being taken to a town called Fayette. It wasn't in Illinois.

At times like this Buffy missed the Slayer Organization helicopter.

Regardless of the less than satisfactory circumstance though, nothing was puncturing her focus now. She needed a game plan. _If that dimension scythe really is there ... then I can't just barge in and steal it. Even if it's even the_ right _one. I need to play it covert._ Buffy thought determinedly.

Supposedly this scythe was some kind of college inspiration symbol. The idea of a medieval weapon being used as anything other than killing was frankly almost laughable to Buffy, but to each their own. It probably had security for it too, given it's possible danger to students and what it was used for. All these were factors to consider when she made her move.

Screeching brakes pulled Buffy out of her bubble as the bus rolled to a halt. The driver's summons of a drop-off rung in her ears and people were already clamoring out of their seats, starting to file noisily out the bus. The slayer waited for the crowd to thin, peering out the window to see the Fayette bus stop and beyond that a strip mall.

After a two-hour drive, she was finally getting deeper into Missouri and closer to Illinois. She was one-town over closer. There was undoubtedly more travel to come, but at least she was halfway to Springfield now.

Buffy blew out a loud breath, situating her duffel bag strap on her shoulder. "One small step for slayer, one giant leap for the _Travel Channel_." The blonde slayer muttered wryly, not devoid of weariness before she stood up and began to edge herself into the middle of the bus.

Travelling slowly but surely among the scores of people, Buffy made her way to the front. The bus driver, a large and strong-looking man with slicked back black hair, had his attention zeroed in on her. His dark gaze was piercingly intense. Buffy approached him with more caution, a sensation crawling up the base of her spine. There was something in that stare. Something she didn't trust.

Tension set the slayer aflame she passed by, ready for whatever happened as she kept a wary eye on the bus driver. There was one precarious moment and the driver let her go. Buffy felt the man's gaze searing a hole in her back as she boarded off the bus.

 _What was that about?_ The slayer asked herself, standing at the bus stop and glancing behind her sharply. There had been something ... _off_ about that guy. Every slayer and common sense instinct screamed at her something was wrong. _He_ was not normal. But the bus driver had been swallowed up by the people still getting off. The blonde forced herself to look away and keep on walking.

Buffy made her way deeper into the streets, passing by stores such as a retail shop and dry cleaning pick-up. There was a burger grill and bar open farther down the street, but the slayer did not stop. She just kept right on going, every muscle of hers rigid with suspicion. That bad feeling wasn't leaving. It was only getting stronger.

When she was about to pass an alleyway that cut a path all the way towards the opposite street, Buffy veered sharply in that direction. With sudden speed, the slayer bolted deeper down and latched onto a nearby streetlight beside one of the buildings, wrapping her body around it and climbing up. She pushed herself off and griped the ledge, heaving herself over in a matter of seconds.

Buffy immediately crouched, staying low and keeping her alert eye on the ground below. A shape was materializing. It was the bus driver from before. The blonde went rigid, her eyes narrowing but stayed still as the man walked deeper in the alley. He moved slower, his head turning from side to side as he glanced around. Still Buffy waited.

Just as the man was right under the building, the blonde pounced.

Buffy leaped down. The man only had one split second to register anything when the slayer landed towards him in pinpoint precision, managing a kick to the face and knocking him to the ground. Mr. Bus Driver tried blindly to strike her. She easily halted the stunned attempt, catching his wrist and twisting his arm all the way around before pinning him down with her boot.

"Why are you following me?" Buffy growled.

The man struggled, trying to break free. The blonde slayer immediately increased her force, pressing his face into the dirt. The black-haired guy groaned, the groan turning into a pained laugh. He tried to look up at her. "Gee ... you really _are_ a special girl, aren't cha?"

 _Annd there goes my question mark._ Buffy thought humorlessly, just barely stopping herself from rolling her eyes.

"Aw, I bet you say that to all your stalkees." The slayer responded cuttingly, fighting against the man's strength to keep him restrained.

Steps registered behind her just a second too late. Buffy twisted around, catching a bat aimed straight at her head. The speed and force behind it off-balanced her, giving her bus driver his shot. He pushed her off him with all his strength. The startled slayer bounced off, tripping over her own feet as she fought for her ground back.

Two sets of black eyes were looking back at her now. The newcomer was a large, muscular man with shaggy dark brown hair and his crude bat propped up against his shoulder. He looked like a typical biker. His expression was impassive. Her worst bus driver _ever_ had gotten to his feet, aggression in his eyes and poised defensively.

Frustration was building in Buffy rapidly, but when she spoke her tone was evenly condescending. " _Bats_ now? Well, I guess it's wrong to expect demons with class _anywhere_." She gave a small shrug, throwing out her arms.

Demon biker gave a unfriendly smile. "Class is for bitches." He replied smugly. He took the bat off his shoulder and twirled it in the air lazily. "But let's cut straight to the chase." A darker look entered his eyes, catching the top of his bat harshly in one hand. "Where's the Winchesters?"

Unadulterated surprise flashed over Buffy. _They're after them?_ She thought, mystified even as she masked it. She had been so certain these demons came here to bring her to Crowley, but instead they were looking for those two brothers?

"Never heard of them." The slayer said smoothly, her face giving away nothing.

"Nice try, Powderpuff. One of our demons caught you out hunting with Dean Winchester. We know." Demon bus driver replied in cold matter-of-factness.

Buffy paused. The dots of how that particular scenario happened connected itself. She switched tactics. "Maybe. What of it?" The small blonde remarked just as coolly, her own look hard.

"Well, let's see. You're going to tell us where he and his brother are, like a good little girl ..." The bus driver demon began ominously, taking a significant step towards her. "And just maybe ... we can be friends." There was no friendliness in his drawl. Just was cruelty.

Something in that set Buffy off. They weren't just here to fish for information on Sam and Dean. They were here for _her_.

Buffy couldn't help but be defiant. "Fresh out of friends ... and I _really_ don't mind." The blonde replied sardonically, looking at them through a narrowed green glare as she slowly began reaching for her back jean pocket.

"And we _really_ don't care." The black-haired demon snarked back, starting to circle the slayer. "Whatever you are ... power like that. It's enough to bring anyone flocking to you. Sure got our attention." He said with more meaning. The slayer stiffened at the words.

"First thing's first though ... you're gonna tell us where Sam and Dean Winchester are. We know you know. Fess up, girl, and things won't get ugly." The demon biker type reiterated with warning, his black eyes unblinking. He paused. A twisted smirk came to his face. "Well ... _uglier_."

Morbid intrigue flickered in Buffy momentarily. It truly amazed her how two normal, perfectly human demon hunters could have this much of a reputation. Sure, Riley was competent and The Initiative too in their own brain-washed, camo way. But the Initiative was an organization and Riley never struck terror in _any_ monster the way Sam and Dean did. These demons wanted them dead and wanted it bad.

There was something more mysterious about these simple-looking Kansas hotties. There was so much Buffy didn't know about them. And she was curious, she'd admit it. But that was a curiosity for another time.

The blonde gave an easy smile. "Nice pitch. Not gonna cut it. Whatever happens in slay circles, _stays_ in slay circles." She said glibly, her cheekiness rejuvenated in a blink.

"Let's see if that sticks when we bring you to Crowley." Biker demon growled, tightening his grip on the bat.

Bus driver advanced. In lightning-fast movement, Buffy reached into her pocket and whipped out the angel blade. The demons tensed. The slayer smirked wryly. "Sorry. Places to be." She said glibly.

With that, the demons lunged.

The biker demon came at her with his bat, aiming right for the head again while the other demon tried to throw a punch at her. Buffy dodged both fluidly, kicking him hard in the stomach just as she side-stepped the punch from the other demon while trying to stab the biker one. Biker demon evaded. Just as the blonde was about to try again, Bus Driver demon's fist connected to her side.

Buffy grunted, the winded feeling distracting her a second. The black-haired demon's second punch came. Right when it was about to hit, the small blonde threw out her arm. She caught the bus driver demon's wrist, holding it in an iron grip. She glared into it's eyes. "I'm _really_ glad I didn't tip you."

The other demon was coming up behind her, but Buffy acted fast. Fighting against the bus driver's strength with her own, the small slayer used her free arm and countered with a vicious swipe of the angel blade. Blood went in the air as it grazed his chest. The bus driver demon shrieked, his chest sizzling. He scrambled away, shock and pain on his face as he stared at her.

Biker demon screeched to a halt too. The momentary surprise on his face fell away to grim anger. "You put holy water on the blade." The muscular demon said with palpable disgust.

Buffy smiled in satisfaction. "Yep. Soaked it in it for _hours_." She confirmed cockily, waving the angel blade in front of their faces. "Had a blade, had holy water. I figured, why not mix and match?" The blonde added flippantly.

Rage smoldered in Bus driver demon's eyes, who was gripping the still slightly sizzling wound on his chest. "Well, aren't you creative." He snarled.

In a second, the demons were on her again—more careful to avoid the blade, but no less deterred. Buffy grappled, fending off both demons and giving them as little openings as possible. The small blonde kicked the biker demon away with a full sweep of her leg and then lunged at the Bus driver demon, angel blade barred.

Bus driver demon narrowly dodged, ducking his head as the blade just barely missed him and catching the slayer's arm before she could change the trajectory. The black-haired demon tried to twist it and pull the blade away, putting her in a struggling position. Buffy grunted angrily, fighting against it's grip as she shot him a cold glare.

"What _are_ you?" Bus driver demon demanded hatefully.

The slayer stopped struggling a second, covering up her resentment at that annoyingly repetitive question _._ "What, you aren't gonna buy me a drink first?" Buffy said innocently, fluttering her eyelashes.

That pissed him off, but the blonde had had quite enough. With a surge of slayer strength, Buffy broke free of the demon's grip, twisting it completely around and throwing a harsh punch to the demonic bus driver's face. His head bobbed and in the split second, the small slayer sailed the angel blade. The blade pierced directly into his chest, light flickering from the body as she jerked the blade out.

Buffy whirled around her, gripping the blade with a narrowed and angry green glare as she drew her attention to the other demon. Sometime during the scrap she had kicked into the brick wall hard enough to pull a hole through it. As the blonde slayer prowled over to the wall, everything fell out from under her.

Instead of biker demon with a bat, she was left with a hole. An empty, completely demon-free hole in the wall beside an equally empty alley. Buffy stood in front of it, her hand gripping one of the barely still-there bricks. Biker demon was gone.

 _"Seriously?!"_ Buffy stated incredulously, harsh with frustration.

This was the _second_ time a demon in this world got away. The _second_ time a demon had _ran away_. The second she had _let_ them run away. Were all the demons in the brothers' world this cowardly?

Even though she certainly hadn't wanted this fight, she couldn't help it. Anger flooded over Buffy. She gritted her teeth, her grip tightening on the brick as it started to crush in her hands. She glared at the offending hole. Unsatisfied, pissed, and most of all just utterly disappointed in herself.

Buffy did a quick sweep of the alley. She had to make sure the demon wasn't planning a surprise attack. The only thing that seemed to be left was the sulfur, but the blonde slayer couldn't look thoroughly with the body of the one demon she did kill and the risk of absolutely _anyone_ seeing that. There was only so much she could explain.

The blonde slayer glared at her "bus driver's" body bitterly, her hands gripping the streetlight. Why couldn't they just turn to _dust_ when they die, like vampires did? Buffy knew these monsters in the Winchester's world were demons technically, but they reminded her so creepily of vampires she actually _did_ expect them to be dust for a moment.

Using the streetlight, the small blonde climbed back up to the roof the way she had come. Her duffel bag was on the rooftop, right by the ledge. She had hastily carried and thrown it up there when she hid as that demon followed her. Even as she secured it, wiped and then put away the angel blade, her mind was a chaotic mess of anger and dismay.

 _I can't believe it. That demon got away. I_ let _it get away. And now he's probably speeding away on his Harley, telling Crowley all about me and where I am. So much for covert._ Buffy thought mutinously. There was no doubt that was what was going to happen and it was all because she hadn't killed that thing when she had the chance. Now Crowley would be on her trail. Like she didn't already have enough problems!

What did this Crowley guy even want her for anyways? He captures her, then what? Hold her hostage? Keep her as his own personal zoo attraction for his sick, warped curiosity? Kill her? _Use_ her? For the life of her Buffy just couldn't guess. Dean and Sam, as well as they clearly knew him, hadn't answered that for her either.

There was a different kind of frustration too though, not just the reality of Crowley after her. Demons didn't just get away from her like like this. At least not that easily, let alone _twice_. Especially if they were reporting her to her _enemies_. It was a complete rookie mistake. She honestly couldn't believe just a little over a week ago she had been a elite slayer general on top of the supernatural food chain.

The blonde slayer felt around her duffel bag, feeling around for her scythe and pulling it out. She stared at the shiny red weapon a long moment, her green gaze distant. She ran her fingers over the edge of the axe blade, enwrapped in nostalgia and homesickness.

 _Everything's ... so different here. I'm out of my element. That's all._ Buffy thought reluctantly, ignoring her tarnished pride. If this was _her_ world, then demons wouldn't get away from her. It was the place, not her. And since she was without her hunk chaperones, then the place was the one especially getting the better of her. She had to admit that to herself as much as she hated to.

With a sigh, the blonde slayer put the scythe away and zipped the bag. Crowley was after her and soon enough would have a better idea of where she was. That was her reality. _I have to keep moving. I can't let him catch up to me._

Buffy stood up, slinging the strap over her shoulders with a look of determination. She needed to get to that university in Springfield. She needed to get that dimension scythe ... Crowley on her tail or not.

 _ **####**_

The blonde slayer sat down with a sigh, sinking into the motel bed covers. Hours had passed since her demon scrap in Fayette. She had wasted no time getting the hell out of there, boarding the next bus out and into some border state town called St. Louis. Leftover kung-pao chicken was on the end-table beside her. Salt lined her windows and doors, again. It was just shy of two in the morning and she was dead on her feet. Every expression of exhaustion, she was it.

 _Better hope Crowley and his goons can give me a couple days off. Least 'till I get to this stupid university._ Buffy couldn't help but think wearily. She knew she had to try harder to avoid them. Her best start was getting as far out of Missouri as possible. She was almost to Illinois, which was a good thing. Never mind the drive time in Illinois to Springfield _also_ , but she _so_ wasn't going there right now.

The small blonde sighed again. This constant jumping from motel to motel, to bus to bus over these past couple days was _really_ starting to wear thin. She missed the stability of her Scotland headquarters. At least when she had been always on the move with the slayers, she still had a place to go back to.

But she had that also with Sam and Dean's fancy bunker. She legitly almost missed _that_ even. She _hated_ motel rooms. Every time she booked one, she felt like she had just walked into a toxic waste dump. Used all the time, filled with countless people from who knows where. It was just ... ugh.

Almost absent-mindedly, the slayer fished into her pocket and pulled out one of the scammed credit cards the brothers gave her. She had been using these things constantly for everything—food, clothes, rooms—and she hadn't got caught once. She still couldn't believe they worked. The dirt and sleaze just _radiated_ off it (not _un_ like the dirt and sleaze radiating off Dean who wouldn't let her leave until she took them).

Buffy made a face. Is _this_ what she had been reduced to? Credit card scams, not actually paying for _anything_? The slayer tossed the card in disgust, sinking under the weight of all these new, unsavory and crap circumstances. She scowled.

This sucked.

Snatching her kung-pao chicken off the table, Buffy took her chopsticks and dug in. Sitting cross-legged on the bed finishing her take-out, the blonde's tired mind wandered. This Crowley situation bothered her so much. She sincerely hoped she'd find the dimension scythe soon and get home without ever having the displeasure of meeting him. Right now she didn't know _anything_ about Crowley. His movements, his power, his thinking patterns. How she can handle an enemy she was completely in the dark about?

 _Maybe I should call them. Sam and Dean. They know Crowley. If he really gets a report on me from that demon that got away, then maybe they can give me a few pointers?_ She wondered.

She hoped calling them for an advice didn't translate into them actually doing things _for_ her. They had done too much for her already. That's why she's been trying to avoid calling them since they separated. Buffy didn't want Sam and Dean to feel like she thought they were obligated to help her out of her own problems.

 _On second thought ... maybe I_ won't _call them._ Buffy backtracked, frowning. She doubted the brothers' ability to ignore her problems just based on everything before and she _really_ didn't want to risk that. Crowley was more the Winchesters' problem technically and so was closing the gates of Hell. That was so much more important than the chance Crowley _might_ find her. She wasn't ruining that for them.

Who knows. Maybe Crowley won't find her while she's on this trip to Springfield. She may not be in her universe anymore, but she still knew how to cover her tracks. She didn't need Sam and Dean. _Yeah ... definitely not calling them._

After throwing away her take-out and taking a shower, something struck Buffy. There was a bigger difference being stuck in this world than just the obvious: she had _time_ to herself. Back at home the Slayer Organization monopolized everything.

But not this past week. She didn't need to get up every day with slayers, military protection defensives, and leadership on the brain. It was just her. Her and slaying.

 _It's so weird, getting up every morning and not needing to look after the girls._ Buffy thought, surprised by how affected she was by that realization. To just be sitting in a room, relaxing and doing regular slaying as Buffy for vampires and demons, no slayers to lead or patrols to issue out. She had forgotten what that felt like. In a round-about way ... this last week had been the closest thing to "normal" for her since before the potentials walked into her life.

Buffy gave a shake of her head, pushing away the idea. _But that's just it. I_ do _need to. I'm just not there. Who even knows what's going with the Slayer Organization after my magical MIA ... with the slayers. I gotta fix that._ The small blonde reminded herself stubbornly.

Buffy didn't want to admit there was a part of her that wasn't sure that was true. That after everything she put them through, they were actually more functional _without_ her around. Her convenient absence conveniently made everything fall into place because her _presence_ sure didn't.

The slayer walked slowly towards her bed, staring at it moment before she turned and sat. Her thoughts drifted back to her friends. She wondered if they were looking for her or had already given up. She wondered if they were worried. She wondered if Dawn was hurt with her gone or that her and her sister had grown so apart these past three years she barely missed her at all.

Sadness wreathed over Buffy. She missed them. She almost wished her friends had been brought her here with her, if only for it to feel like the old Scooby days again. No matter what happened, no matter how distant she's been with them lately ... she didn't love anything more than she loved her friends. They were her family and she'd do whatever it takes to get back to them.

The full weight of everything these past several years, most even in this past week, seemed to all pile on in that very moment. Weariness behind her years carved it's way into her heart again. Buffy laid down slowly on the bed, clutching the pillow and tired. So very tired.

 _I miss my world. I miss my mom. I miss the gang. And Angel. And Spike._ _And churros. And sex. God, do I miss that sex._ Buffy reflected wistfully, each with feeling. Registering her last few thoughts fully a little late, the blonde gave an annoyed shake of her head and buried her face deeper into the pillow.

Amazing. She couldn't even feel _sorry_ for herself in linear fashion.

Tomorrow was the day she needed to keep going. She was going to get that scythe and not let Crowley find her. By _herself_. No matter how done she was with everything, how alone she felt, how much she wished other things were different ... it didn't matter. Some things she just couldn't change. This world situation though she could.

As Buffy closed her eyes and let herself give him into sleep, one last resigned thought filtered it's way into her consciousness. _Suck it up, Summers. You're a big girl now._

* * *

~~Dean~~

 _*Rapid City, South Dakota*_

Sam was kneeled to the left behind Dean, a small black box in hand as he threw it down into the dug-up hole and quickly covered it back up with dirt. Dean didn't look up, spray painting the last red line to his objective. A large, red spray-painted devil's trap (made by yours truly) surrounded the brothers dead-set in the middle of the empty crossroads.

Sam stood up, flashing his brother a meaningful look.

Dean nodded. "Alright, hit it."

Sam braced himself, then started to recite the summoning ritual in Latin.

Dean looked on, restless and more than ready. It's been three, going on four days they've been putting all their energy back into their demon situation. Their search for information on Crowley had been unsuccessful. There had been no demons hanging around in Kansas or any major sightings of them anywhere else. That left their last-ditch effort: crossroads demons.

Seconds after Sam finished the summoning, a woman appeared. She was dressed in a black, tight-fighting dress with black heels. Her medium-length, dark brown hair was tied in a loose bun with a single braid on the edge of her side bangs. The demon turned her head and caught sight of the two brothers. Immediate contempt and thinly veiled dismay swamped her pretty face.

"Sam and Dean Winchester." She addressed, dragging out their names in a droll tone. "For what do I owe this unpleasant, bile-inducing summons?" The brunette demon deadpanned.

"Just a little catch-up on Hell." Dean replied flippantly, just as contemptuous. "Sorry we couldn't talk it out over shots or anything ..." The hunter couldn't help but taunt, his expression hardening as he pulled out his demon knife. "But let's catch up."

The she-demon gave a warped smile, her eyes shifting to red. She glanced around, taking in the devil's trap and the grim but threatening expressions on Sam and Dean. A bitter chuckle escaped her. "Oh, you boys. Still at it with one-upping Crowley. Cute." She remarked in amusement.

"We just want information on Crowley's plans. That's all." Sam clarified tersely.

The crossroad demon made a tsking sound, shrugging her shoulders. "He's a busy man. Hard to say what's he been up to. Try his higher-ups." The amicable words faltered as the brunette paused, her expression melting in exaggerated thought. "Oh, wait ... they're dead." She said with insincere sympathy. She smirked. "Sorry, boys. Looks like you're just screwed."

Used to these demons and their mind games, Dean's rock hard expression didn't even falter. "Way I see it, as long as we're screwed so are you. You ain't getting out of here until you tell us what we need to know." The Winchester responded bluntly. He held up his demon knife pointedly. "So ... easy way or _fun_ way?"

The crossroads demon crossed her arms. "I don't know anything."

"So fun way." Dean summed up casually, nodding. He readied his demon knife and took steps towards her. "Alright—"

The brunette recoiled as the Winchester advanced. "Even if I did tell you, it won't change anything! It's not gonna help." The crossroads demon retorted defensively.

"Why don't we be the judges of that?" Sam said blandly, unimpressed.

The crossroads demon laughed bitterly. " _Why?_ You're not gonna let me _live_. As soon as I tell you, I lose my leverage. I die. That's just your brand of Winchester charm." The brunette explained matter-of-factly, sarcasm slipping into your voice.

"You're not wrong." The older Winchester couldn't help himself.

" _Dean_." Sam said warningly, giving his older brother a meaningful look. Dean got the hint and stayed quiet. The younger hunter turned back to the crossroads demon. "Tell us what you know. If you do, we won't kill you. We'll just exorcise you. Your choice." He offered straightforwardly.

The brunette was silent, her now brown eyes narrowed as she searched Sam's face distrustfully.

"Deal's leavin' ..." Dean warned gruffly.

With a roll of her eyes, the crossroads demon sighed. "What do you want to know?" She asked grudgingly.

"What was going on Michigan? Three weeks ago, Novi. The dead demons. No way you haven't heard of it." Sam prompted, his stare on her hard.

The brunette frowned. "You mean that wasn't you?" She asked in surprise.

Dean narrowed his eyes, gauging the crossroads demon shocked expression warily. He exchanged a glance with Sam, weighing the same thoughts before his younger brother fixed his attention back on the demon. "No." The brown-haired hunter said bluntly, just as cautious as Dean.

The look of confusion and momentary unease on crossroads demon's face made Dean wonder. _So the demons don't know what the hell happened that night either?_ The Winchester thought, puzzled. He wasn't sure what to think about that idea. If it had been caused by a rogue demon, especially a freakzoid one, wouldn't they already know?

Pushing the thought aside for the moment, Dean carried on the interrogation. "What was Crowley after?" As the crossroads demon hesitated, the hunter's impatience was back. He pointed the demon knife at her. "Hey. We can still do this the hard way. I mean, I'm there!" The Winchester said meaningfully, throwing out one hand and waving his knife with the other.

Anger rose on the crossroads demon's face. She gave an irritated, defeated sigh. " ... Crowley sent out the demons to look for Lucifer's crypts." She admitted reluctantly.

Shock flowed over Dean. " _Lucifer_ had crypts?"

"What's he after in Lucifer's crypts?" Sam questioned, baffled.

The crossroad demon threw up her hands. "No one knows! Crowley's been very hush hush. He's never been crazy enough to give away all his secrets, even to his subjects." The brunette answered in disinterest. "Honestly, you two should just give it up already. The demons who _did_ know ... they're all dead, like I said. Good luck finding out."

Annoyance swept over Dean. Every muscle in him wanted to accuse the demon of lying. Trusting any of them, even for a moment, never ended well. But he could see the sense in what she was saying. Crowley never gave away anything. The idea of the demons who did know were already dead was not far-fetched.

"You mean the demons wiped out back in Novi?" His younger brother broached, challenge in his voice. Dean couldn't help but notice the sudden tension hanging off the female demon. "Yeah, we know. They must've been looking for the crypts, then something happened. Something _killed_ them." Sam recapped pointedly.

"Sure you don't have any ideas on who went _Corleone_ on your ass? Or _what_?" The older Winchester pushed the demon with just as much edge, his green gaze uncompromising. It had to have been a demon. Even if it was a different _kind_ of demon. Didn't they have at least an idea?

The demon didn't answer, a guarded and uncomfortable look in her eyes. The hunter couldn't stop a smirk from coming. "Ooh. Struck a nerve. Trouble in paradise?" He taunted knowingly.

The she-demon still stayed quiet a moment, battling with her loyalties and defiance. Finally she broke. "We don't know, okay? Whatever murdered the demons in Michigan, we don't _know_. But it wasn't one of ours. And clearly it wasn't _you_ so there goes that idea." The crossroads demon said, bitterness slipping into her voice.

His younger brother paused, nodding. "Bothers him, doesn't it? His mission hijacked, no idea who took it all out? It must be driving Crowley crazy." Sam guessed with a tinge of contempt.

The brunette returned the challenge. "He's shaken. Not weak. He's looking into the problem." The crossroads demon insisted, a hard edge to her voice as she glared at Sam. She sighed, waving her arms around. "Are we done? That's all I got." She grumbled impatiently.

Dean pursed his lips, shooting Sam a questioning look and giving a shake of his head. Sam nodded grimly. There was still so many questions left about the crypt massacre, but clearly this demon had just as many and Crowley on top of that. There was no point dragging out this interrogation further.

"Well, thanks for the Q & A ..." Dean said in a bored tone, glancing back at the demon. Dimly the hunter registered Sam starting to speak in Latin. "How about you go to hell?" He deadpanned.

As his little brother kept on reciting the exorcism, the crossroad demon's annoyed expression contorted in pain. Her body started to shake and twitch unnaturally. Sam finished and the demon let out a piercing scream, smoke flying up out of it's mouth. It circled in the air a second and then disappeared. The possessed woman's body crumbled to the ground, unconscious.

"Shouldn't we have told them about the tainted sulfur?" Sam asked after a beat, looking to his brother uncertainly.

Dean couldn't blame him for the question. He had considered it himself a second. "They don't know anything. We gotta figure it out ourselves." The older Winchester answered briskly. He turned back around to his brother. "Lucifer's crypts. Sounds like a party." He commented grimly.

Sam shook his head. "It can't be good, Dean." The brown-haired hunter remarked, a deep frown of concern etched into his face. "We saw what Crowley was doing. The possessions, the digging. He was _desperate_. Whatever happened in that town that night ... it was big."

"And mutt demon had the front-row seat." The older Winchester added, his mouth in tight line. He shook his head. "What the hell is that thing's beef with Crowley? The _crypts_? Hell, where'd it even _come_ from? Why now?" The hunter said in flurry of agitated confusion.

Again, his brother gave a rueful shake of his head. "It's got Crowley too. I mean, _'shook up'_? _Crowley_?" Sam said incredulously, meaning written all over his face.

"Yeah, well. Not like his ass doesn't deserve it." Dean responded off-handedly, shrugging. He shook his head. "I still can't believe these dicks don't know who did it. I mean, demon with a side of green, gooey sulfur in your posse and that— _that_ doesn't draw your attention?" Dean said in disbelief, throwing out his hand.

He was literally so disgusted and angry with the incompetence. Demons were so _pathetic_. The sooner he and Sam cracked this demon tablet wide open and send those bastards back in hellfire, the better.

Sam paused, watching him with a thoughtful and calculating look. " ... Maybe because there wasn't any to draw." He said at last.

 _"What?"_

His brother didn't miss a beat. " ... Maybe the demon isn't on their side. Maybe it never _was_." Sam stated with feeling, his green gaze resting on him meaningfully.

Dean pulled back slightly, surprise and incredulity flashing over at him as he stared at his brother. In less than a second though, it all started to fit together. Sam had a point. If there was a demon that weird in his subjects, Crowley at least would've surely noticed it. But _they_ didn't. The only explanation was that demon wasn't part of Hell's army or it's subjects ... at _all._

That realization hit the hunter deep. How could a demon be a demon and not part of Hell? It made no sense to him, but he just couldn't find enough will to care anymore. Nothing made sense ever since that crypt massacre and Buffy falling right on their doorstep. His whole word went topside. No point questioning it anymore.

Dean shook his head, tresigned irritation swamping over him. "Hipster demon. _Great_." He muttered.

* * *

~~Buffy~~

Buffy stood thoughtfully outside on a sidewalk, dressed in a red sleeveless V-neck over a black tank top with jeans and her blonde hair pulled back into a neat bun. Her body was turned the other way, taking in her surroundings. Two sets of beige arches, separate but close enough to almost form a circle, stood in her eye-line over a few tables filled with several young people. Columns vaguely Roman-esque in architecture supported it.

What she was mostly looking at right now though? The words she had been most obsessing over the past four days engraved on the very top of the arches in brown lettering: _'University of Springfield.'_

 _Finally. Right where I want it._ The blonde slayer thought, relief and purpose flowing through her. She had to cross a couple states by herself, steal a few things, get by on credit card scams and had a skirmish or two with a demon ... but she had made it. She was here. She'd get that scythe.

Springfield, by itself, turned out to not be that long a trip now. St. Louis was close enough to be an actual piece of cake. Why this had actually taken her a whole day instead? Demons. They found her at her motel room. Buffy narrowly managed to lose them and hide with as much reliance on her slayer stamina and instinct as she could. She had doubled her efforts getting them off tail. Last she checked, she had ditched somewhere between the border of Missouri and Illinois. She hoped it stayed that way.

 _'Kay. How am I gonna do this?_ The blonde slayer thought critically. She couldn't just waltz in and say _'Hey, is that a scythe? Let me borrow it for a second!'_ unless she was just _asking_ to cause problems. She didn't have the time or the luxury to go undercover. She was going to steal it, but not yet. Not with college in session. Not when she didn't know the weapon here was the weapon she _needed_.

 _Which I can't_ know _since I didn't see any picture. Right. So ... I guess I need to get one._ Buffy mused, a plan forming in her head. She ignored the slight tinge of reluctance she couldn't help but naturally feel a second. Get over it, Buffy. She needed the help.

Pulling out the flip phone Dean gave her, the small blonde went to contacts and found who she was looking for. The dialing of the phone drummed in ear as Buffy waited anxiously. The dialing seemed way too long. _Please pick up, please pick up, please pick—_

A connecting sound. _"Yes?"_

The bland, generally monotone voice couldn't have made Buffy happier. She smiled nervously. "Hi, um ... Castiel, right? It's Buffy. Sam and Dean's friend? You remember me, right?" The blonde addressed sheepishly.

 _"Yes."_ The undeniable recognition in the angel's tone put her fears to rest immediately. _"I heard you had left to search for Zaphkiel's scythe. Something must've come up then, if you're calling me. What's wrong?"_ He prompted her with straight-laced straightforwardness.

Buffy didn't respond, her mind going into this weird fuzzy state as she actually realized what she was doing.

 _"What is it? Are you there?"_ He spoke again, sounding slightly confused.

That snapped the blonde slayer out of it. She shook her head. "Sorry. Momentary zombie lapse. It's just ... talking to an _angel_ on a _cell phone._ " Buffy stressed in disbelief. She smiled. "I keep seeing harps and the silky, puffy hair and, y'know, those fat little babies. Maybe the theme song to It's _A Wonderful Life_ in the background." She babbled.

She literally _felt_ Castiel sigh into the phone. " _Is this why you called me?"_ The angel asked wearily.

Jogged out of her social awkwardness, Buffy's mood sobered. "I'm in Illinois at UIS. That dimension scythe might be in there and you know what it looks like. I need to check if it's the right one. I need to know if it's _here_. So I'm hoping you can be my eyes on this one." The slayer explained with more sincerity.

 _"Of course. I'll be right there."_

No sooner had Buffy hung up did she hear something. The second she turned her head, Castiel had materialized just a few feet across from her dressed in the same trench coat and suit she had seen him in last time. The blonde's eyes widened as he started walking towards her, giving quick nervous glances around in case anyone noticed his sudden appearance.

"Wow. Way to make an entrance." Buffy commented as he stopped in front of her, looking vaguely surprised. She looked around them again. "Hopefully all that dramatic, perfect timing goodness didn't just scare off half the university." The small slayer added, shooting him a meaningful look.

The angel frowned, registering her point. "Oh. Sorry." He responded lamely. Buffy rolled her eyes. Regaining himself quick enough, the fallen angel refocused on her with more seriousness. "I'll identify the scythe. Just tell me what you need."

The blonde glanced over at the buildings of the university, her expression scrunched in thought. "It's a big campus. A lot of ground to cover. The sooner we know _exactly_ where that thing is in there, the better." She thought out loud. Buffy glanced back at the angel. "It's _your_ type of weapon technically. Can you _'spider sense'_ it out?"

Castiel hesitated, looking deep in thought. Finally he gave a slight shake of his head. "No. I can't ... _'spider sense'_ it." He tested out the phrase _'spider sense'_ like he wasn't completely sure he was using it right. "Angels can't sense heavenly weapons exactly where they are. That's what makes then heavenly. We'll have to find it ourselves."

Buffy nodded. She thought fast. " 'Kay. New plan. We pretend we're two would-be students looking to sign up for college. We do the full-tour. Then if this scythe's my Holy _Grail_ , I'll break in after-hours and steal it myself." The blonde explained briskly. "For now ..." She trailed away, holding out her arms as she gestured to the campus. "We are _matriculating_." The slayer quipped, smiling.

The angel didn't look convinced. "From my understanding, college students usually range somewhere into their twenties. You might be convincing, but this vessel is ..." Castiel started to say, shaking his head and touching his clothes.

"Key word: _usually_." The slayer clarified, her hands on her hips. Unable to help herself, Buffy smiled devilishly. "You'll just have to be that washed up, oddball, thirty-something 'what-the-hell-are-you-doing-here' deadbeat." The blonde described flippantly.

Cas frowned, a deep look of confusion on his face. Glib to the end, Buffy patted his shoulder once mockingly and turned back in the direction of the university. "Alright. Let's go explore _Barnett College_." The blonde stated off-handedly, considerably more cheerful now.

In an almost never-changing state, the angel's expression still puzzled. "This place's name is the University of Springfield." Cas reminded her matter-of-factly, not getting her joke.

The blonde slayer gave him a look. Buffy gave a wry smile and just shook her head. "You really aren't the Pop Culture Cadet, are you?" The slayer realized, amused. Castiel looked uncomfortable and on the verge of saying something, but the slayer grabbed his shoulder for them to start walking. "Keep hanging around with me ... we're gonna have to fix that."

 _ **####**_

Buffy roamed the halls of UIS, Castiel close to her side as they continued their trek to find the department the scythe was in. Visitor passes were given to them, tied with a string around their neck and given name tags (Buffy had thought of the name Marty Klein for Castiel on the fly, since apparently he _sucked_ of thinking one for himself). There weren't any tours for them to go on, but it had worked out anyway and they managed to get inside.

Taking this self-imposed "tour" with an angel as her wingman was starting to feel less weird the deeper they traveled the university. Castiel wasn't intimidating, heavenly, or angel-y at all. He was just odd, literal, ignorant, and eternally confused. His lack of social understanding besides the lack of pop culture knowledge was made increasingly obvious to Buffy, especially when they checked in with the office. She was not going to go into _that_ near-disaster.

If she was honest, Buffy was starting to see why Sam and Dean got along with him. Already she had at least a cautious comfort level with the angel. Castiel reminded her a lot of Anya. The literalness, the lack of understanding. Except with Cas it was like dealing with a nicer, kinda adorable puppy dog so the infuriating Anya spin was watered down. Now Buffy had never been particularly close to Anya, but she did kind of learn how to deal with the socially challenged from her. Going from Anya to Castiel was like going from a Pitbull to a Pomeranian.

So far, so good.

Even if she kept her senses alert for any sign of the weapon, Buffy couldn't help but let her attention wander from time to time. The university was huge. Much more huge than the only college she had ever been to, which was UC Sunnydale. And everything was so _nice_! The halls, the dorms, the departments. They even had a _Starbucks_. It was literally her dream campus.

Students shuffled around the halls, talking and laughing with each other. Many of them had their arms loaded, carrying either books, papers, or laptops. Buffy watched with a slight smile. "Now that takes me back." She commented, gesturing with her head to the books. "Studying. Now I remember why I dropped out." The slayer said lightly.

The humor in her voice wasn't felt. Wistfulness hit the slayer against her will as she thought back on that short period of her life, torn apart abruptly by her mother's death and needing to give it up for Dawn's sake. Buffy had always intended to go back someday ... but with the Slayer Organization and the military slayer manhunt, that door just kept on closing. She didn't know anymore if it'd ever open again.

"Yes. High school can get rather stressful or so I've heard." The angel remarked, his tone more clinical than sympathetic.

" _High school_?" The slayer repeated, her surprise pulling her out of her thoughts. She frowned. "N-No, I meant college. I _graduated_." She corrected a little forcefully. _Barely._ She couldn't help but add silently, recalling how difficult it had been to balance slaying and her grades. At least she had _that_ under her belt. A lousy diploma.

Now it was Castiel's turn to be surprised. "You've been to college?"

 _Why's he sound so shocked?_ The blonde thought, feeling a little offended. "What? Fell for my 'dumb valley girl' routine already?" Buffy responded bitingly, crossing her arms as she pierced him with a hard stare.

The angel shook his head. "It's just unexpected. Hunters don't often have any kind of higher education past high school. Sam did, I believe. But he dropped out, like you. Dean didn't graduate. I'm sure there's many others." Castiel explained.

 _Not surprised ... and again,_ not _surprised._ Buffy thought in the relation to the brothers' education levels, literally rolling her eyes when she heard Dean's. She could've pinpointed all of that just by looking at them. The angel wasn't wrong though. She never stopped being surprised she actually graduated, especially in the middle of an apocalypse.

The blonde shrugged. "Hunters, slayers. School and us don't mix. You might blow it up." She commented casually. At the angel's questioning look, the blonde froze. She tried to look innocent. "Big fight ... scary evil ... apocalypse. Long story." Buffy said lamely, suddenly self-conscious.

Castiel was grim. "Let's keep going. The scythe must be deeper in the vicinity."

Giving another shrug, Buffy nodded and followed after him into the hall.

Roaming the campus, however, meant looking at _everything_ and they did. They were going through every department and as much Buffy enjoyed the scenery and looking back on her less complex college-y days, even she was getting sick of it. She just wanted to snatch that scythe already. She wanted to know it was _here_. The slayer was itching with restlessness.

By the point they reached the science department, the blonde's mood was beginning to sour. She was even starting to wonder if the dimension scythe was here at _all_. The slayer was just about to express these concerns to Castiel, but as they rounded a corner into one of the hallways, she collided into something.

Buffy doubled back in surprise, regrouping herself. "Sorry. I—"

The slayer's awkward apology screeched to a halt as soon as she set sights on who she ran into. Two sets of piercing stark-green eyes stared into her, not even slightly less intensified by the pair of glasses resting over them. It's owner was a young man, maybe in his late-twenties with a cop of curly dark brown hair. He was dressed in a white lap coat over a sweater-shirt with black pants.

"It's quite alright." A posh British voice, a shade too soft and a shade too sophisticated, responded. "We're always so busy in these halls."

The blonde slayer tried to control her staring. "Yeah ... busy bees." Buffy replied noncommittally, attempting to act normal. She risked a quick side glance at Castiel, gauging his own reaction to this person. The angel looked even more grim than he usually did.

"I don't believe I've seen you here before. And I'd know, since I know everyone." Green Eyes commented, curiosity stamped on his face. After a moment, he chuckled almost sheepishly. "Forgive me. Manners. I'm Dr. Clarke." He said amicably, sticking out his hand.

This guy was creeping her out so much Buffy didn't even trust him with her name, but after a moment she hesitantly accepted the handshake. "Buffy." She answered simply, internalizing all the bad vibes she was getting at least for now.

Castiel was watching the professor intently. " ... Marty." He offered almost curtly.

Dr. Clarke's attention flicked back and forth between both, a friendly smile on his face but his startling eyes speaking of something much more bottomless. "Pleased to meet you both. What are the likes of you two doing here? Looking for a job? Enrolling?" He questioned them casually.

"Uh, enrolling. Definitely." The blonde answered in a forced tone, her lips only slightly twitching in a polite smile. _Something's ... different about him. I can't explain it._ Buffy thought to herself. She couldn't help but be wary. It was his _eyes._ They were so dazzlingly green ... _inhumanly_ green. Demonic. The look in them too wasn't that far off.

Dr. Clarke looked pleased. "Oh, excellent. It's always such a pleasure mixing with new faces." He remarked enthusiastically. "I teach quite a bit different types of science here. It can be a lot of work, but ... well-worth it." The professor went on conversationally. He smiled widely. "Ah, the joys of science, eh?" He added wistfully.

She always hated science. "Yep. Science is biggie. The wonders of safety goggles, and Newton balls." The small blonde humored, her attempt at joking soured with her discomfort. Buffy shot Castiel a brief but meaningful stare, frustrated at his silence. Why did she have to completely take over talking to whoever the hell this was?

Castiel didn't react to her silent demand. The angel was still staring at Dr. Clarke in deep suspicion, his narrowed blue eyes flickering with a thousand questions. He wasn't stepping in. That left her only one option.

The blonde's slayer's distrust and rising sense of foreboding finally got the best of her. "Well, I'd love to keep the chit-chat going ..." Buffy burst out quickly, some of her nervousness slipping into her voice even as she tried to cover it up. "But me and Marty here? We gotta a tour to finish." She said pointedly.

It was straining every muscle in her not to just leave it at that and walk off, getting as far away from this guy as possible, but she kept herself controlled. She couldn't be so obvious. That might draw attention she _really_ wasn't sure she wanted.

The younger professor studied her. After a moment, he gave a slight nod. "Yes, of course. Enjoy the rest of the campus. Maybe we'll meet again in one of my classes. A pleasure meeting you." The brown-haired teacher told them pleasantly. Keeping one wary eye on Dr. Clarke, Buffy moved past him with Castiel by her side. As the two of them walked down the hall, Dr. Clarke continued. "I hope to see you two very, _very_ soon ..."

Buffy kept on walking, but it didn't stop the slight chill his last words left behind. Was there something ominous in that message or was that just her?

 _ **####**_

"Behind this glass lies the last relic of an ancient civilization. It was discovered in the Middle East centuries ago, interpreted as a symbol of endurance and ..."

The rest of the woman's speech was drowned out by background talking of students, clustered together in the middle of the hallway around what seemed to be some kind of glass case. Buffy strained to get a better look at what was inside, but the taller ones in front blocked her view. Finally after a long trek across campus her and Castiel may have finally found something in the history department. _Finally._

"Can you see what's in there? Is it the dimension scythe?" Buffy whispered to Castiel, still straining to see.

"Let's wait for the others to leave. It'll be easier to check for sure." The trench-coated angel answered evenly, not glancing at her.

The blonde slayer frowned, but gained control of herself and consented. The two of them waited in the very back of the crowd, letting the teacher finish the rest of the presentation. Buffy couldn't help but hope Castiel was checking for context clues in the lecture, lining it up with Zaphkiel's scythe's background since he must know at least _some_ of it before it was lost. The angel kept quiet though. His expression was impassive.

When the teacher was done, she took the lead and dismissed her spectators. The group of students taking up the hallway branched out after her back to class, leaving Buffy and Castiel by themselves. Exchanging a bracing glance, the two of them crept forward.

Right in front of them laid a large shelf. A long, dark weapon was hung up directly in the middle, separated by the glass between them. It's whole figure might've once been a shining ebony, but now it was dull and rusted in certain parts. The end of weapon was curved into a sickle-like blade, partially broken down and slightly jagged.

Hope bloomed in Buffy's chest. "Is that it? It is, isn't it? That's the scythe." She said a little breathlessly.

Castiel followed after her more slowly, his unblinking blue gaze fixed on the scythe. He stopped directly in front of the case and stared at it. He didn't speak. Just as Buffy was about to completely lose herself in giddiness and excitement, the slayer finally noticed the odd behavior. The look on the angel's face was unreadable.

"What's wrong? Scythe-blind? Bad memory?" The small blonde deadpanned, giving him a look. The angel didn't reply. Buffy's teasing mood started to go south. "Is it the scythe?" The slayer asked again, worried now.

Again, Castiel didn't answer. He still just stared at the weapon, looking distant.

The non-committal attitude was starting to frustrate Buffy. _"Cas!"_

The impatient edge in her voice finally dragged the angel back to earth. Castiel paused, his expression darkening. He lowered his head and finally gave a small shake. A wordless no.

Buffy stared at her companion, speechless. It took her a moment or two, but when her brain found mental processing again, it hit her hard. The slayer's eyes widened in dismay. She furiously shook her head. "No. I-It can't ... it can't _not_ be." She rejected, walking closer towards the case. "It's a _scythe_. In a _college_. Medieval weapons aren't just casual patrons." Buffy continued, gesturing with her arm. "It _totally_ fits the bill. And you're telling _me_ that this _isn't Zane's scythe_ ...?" Her words started to come out stronger, more angrier.

Castiel sighed. " _Zaphkiel_." He corrected tiredly. He looked back up at the weapon. "This scythe ... it's 14th century. Mesopotamian ancestry. There's nothing heavenly about it's nature. It's an ancient artifact. Nothing more." He clarified.

Denial was still fighting, but the clinical matter-of-factness in the angel's assessment was too strong. "So ... it's not here." The slayer stated numbly, a slight waver in her voice.

Finally the angel turned towards her. His blue eyes shone with guilt and regret. " _I'm so sorry_." He said quietly.

Buffy looked down, overcome with bitter disappointment. She had said herself there was a chance it wasn't the right weapon, but still ... a part of her had expected a payoff. Just when she had envisioned being home with her friends again, it was all ripped away in a few seconds. _Everything_ she had been through these past four days, all for nothing.

"There goes our _MacGuffin_." The blonde muttered. She sighed and shook her head. "It could be _anywhere_ by now. Across the country. Maybe even the whole _world_." Buffy voiced reluctantly, looking away with her hands on her hips.

Distress sunk in her bones even deeper at that unpleasant truth. It was amazing. The _one_ university they knew of that had the _one_ scythe in their criteria and it wasn't even the scythe she was looking for. The slayer could not gloss over that bitter irony. Out of all the possible situations, _that_ was the one that happened. Wow. It was almost a cruel joke.

"It must be in a different college around the area." Castiel stated seriously.

The delusional confidence in those words struck a nerve inside Buffy. Her distress gave way to frustration. She looked sharply at the angel. "Sam and I looked up every college— _literally_ —across the board for one with a scythe fetish. For _hours_. We didn't find anything." She said agitatedly.

The more Buffy spoke, the angrier she got. There was just something so _off_ about this situation. Why was this so _hard?_ She had gotten to this world easily enough. Now it was oh so difficult? Every time she tried to go home, something else got in the way.

It really was a cruel joke. It was like this universe didn't _want_ her to return home.

Beyond flustered, the blonde began pacing. Her hand was on her forehead, shaking her head as she fought over how to handle the situation. The small slayer whirled around on Cas. "Where'd you even hear about this 'scythe getting cozy in college' thing? I mean, your _source_? _Charlie_? Crazy _'A'_ or-or _something_?!" She raved, throwing out her hand.

Ninety nine percent of this was just ranting, but that didn't mean a tiny part of Buffy didn't recognize that was a damn good point. She should've checked Castiel's sources before setting out. Sam and Dean's reassurances shouldn't have been enough. All these questions now she should've asked before, but had been too desperate to care.

Castiel looked hopelessly confused. "I don't—"

"Forget it." The slayer grumbled, waving her hand. Buffy let out a breath, trying to control herself. "My _point_ is ... we already searched the college's clean. There was nothing." The blonde reiterated skeptically. She walked closer to Castiel. "Now either it was relocated ... or you _really_ have something you oughta tell me." Buffy challenged forcefully.

The challenge wasn't ignored. The angel almost seemed to wither under the might of her hard and accusatory stare. " ... It could've been moved." Castiel admitted, acutely uncomfortable. "But I can't promise it. I just know the reported sightings of it was somewhere in the Illinois. It could still be in the Great Lakes region."

 _Or it could_ not _be. And again, source?_ Buffy thought, frustrated. She was tired of the 'could'ves' and the 'what-ifs'. The slayer did not want to go down this road of misleading information again.

"How'd this even _happen_?" The blonde demanded agitatedly, throwing out her hands. "You and the angels had a stockpile of heavenly weapons and you lose them. _Weapons_! Can I talk major fail here?" Buffy criticized incredulously. "This divine Easter hunt wouldn't even be happening if you took better care of them! I'd already _have_ the scythe!" She accused.

Castiel's expression hardened. "The heavenly weapons were lost in the aftermath of a _biblical apocalypse_. Much chaos consumed Heaven at the time." He answered sternly, defensive. After a second a more distant look entered his eyes. He shook his head. "I don't expect you to understand."

"You're right! I _don't_!" The slayer snapped, far from sympathetic. "Apocalypses and disaster relief are things reserved for the _people_. Not cloud-jumpers." She retorted sharply. "You're _angels._ Angels are supposed to be on top of things! Or, I dunno, _organized_? I mean, have you ever even _heard_ of a filing system?" Buffy couldn't help but rant.

The angel was silent, taking in all the criticisms with a look of guilt. " ... Angels are actually much more flawed than the Bible made you believe." Castiel said at last, solemn and honest.

Buffy faltered, the shame and apology hanging off Cas finally snapping her out of her worked up state. The blonde slayer stared at him sadly. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be Little Miss Snappy." She admitted, regretful. "I know you've been trying ... it means a lot. More than you know." She went on quietly.

The blonde figured that might make the angel feel better, but if anything he looked guiltier. Buffy raised her head. "It's not your fault. _Any_ of it." She told him meaningfully, shaking her head. The slayer lowered her eyes. "Things happen ... I get it. I guess ... I'll just have to keep looking." Buffy mumbled dejectedly.

Cas stared at her a long moment, looking strangled by pity and something else. Conflict danced across his face. His mouth kept opening and closing, like he wanted to say something but was too torn.

The slayer didn't give him the chance. Buffy forced a weak smile she hoped was at least one ounce of reassuring before turning away and walking past him down the hallway. Castiel lingered in place for a few seconds, just watching the slayer go with an upset expression, but soon enough followed her down that way too.

Silence settled between the slayer and the angel as they trekked their way out of the university. Buffy welcomed it, plodding along in silent torment as the reality of today sunk in deeper and deeper. Her nagging questions reached deafening proportions. All she could think about was her friends. Were they alright? Was the Big Bad that sent her here already fast-forwarding another apocalypse? Did they need her? Were they even _alive_?

Misery pooled into Buffy. The longer she stayed here, the more worried she got. She knew she had only been away about two weeks, but in her world even a couple minutes was the difference between life and death. She just wanted answers, even if she couldn't get her ticket home yet. The slayer wished she could know for sure if her world and her friends were safe. Buffy could deal with everything else, except not knowing that.

Maybe she was stressing out over nothing. Maybe being sent here had nothing to do with a fresh apocalypse back at home. This was just her and her paranoid tendency to jump to worst-case scenarios. She just didn't know ... and that scared her most of all.

 _Why this place? Why_ me _?_ Buffy thought, hopelessly lost.

As they passed through the science department on the way out, Castiel's steps started slowing. After a beat, Buffy noticed. She halted, glancing back at him with a questioning frown. The angel had stopped. He was just slightly past a dark brown door to a classroom, staring into the small window intensely.

"Cassie?" Buffy prompted.

"Something's wrong." Castiel said cryptically, grim as he glanced at her meaningfully.

The blonde eyed him questioningly. The trench-coated angel shifted positions, pressing himself to the wall beside the door out of sight. Cautious now, Buffy echoed the angel's movements and plastered herself on the opposite side of the door. The small slayer peered surreptitiously inside the window.

The classroom was filled with students. Chemicals and science posters littered it from her line of vision. It seemed perfectly normal to her at a glance ... then she saw the teacher. Tension shot into Buffy as she glimpsed Dr. Clarke. He was talking animatedly to the class, seeming entirely absorbed into whatever lesson he was giving.

"What is _it_ about that guy?" Buffy exclaimed in frustration, scowling a bit as the unnerving distrust floated to the surface.

"Not just him." The angel commented, sending surprise through the slayer. He nodded at the window. "Look closer. At the students."

One wary eye on Castiel a minute, Buffy did. For a second, the blonde didn't see anything out of the ordinary. It looked like a perfectly normal college class. Then finally it hit her. The students was regarding Dr. Clarke with blank, glazed over stares. Their attention on him was glued. They were scarcely even moving. The only indication of them even being alive was slight breathing. Other than that, they might as well have been zombified.

The slayer narrowed her eyes slightly. " _Okay._ No physics class _anywhere_ has this much rapt attention." Buffy deadpanned with feeling.

"It's odd. It's like the students slipped into some form of trance. Almost an hypnosis-state." Castiel deduced perceptively, not taking his attention off the window.

She couldn't help herself. "Well, if you don't _entirely_ want to crush your student's heart and soul ..." Buffy responded, glibly casual as her expression twisted in exaggerated understanding.

Castiel didn't react to her humor. "There's something unnatural about Dr. Clarke. Inhuman. I can sense it." The angel finally voiced her thoughts, his blue gaze narrowed.

The slayer sobered. She shook her head. "I _knew_ there was a reason he was wigging me." Buffy muttered meaningfully.

Suddenly there was a bell. Just as suddenly, the students in Dr. Clarke's rose from their seats and collected all their supplies. Buffy startled at the easy shift from the trance-like state, self-consciously backing away from the door as the hallways started to fill with chatter and people. Castiel did the same. They hovered, trying not to look like they had just been spying.

Dr. Clarke's class began filtering out. Buffy eyed the students critically as they passed her. She kept thinking she'd find something supernatural about them, like maybe a magical tattoo visible or a still hypnotized stare. Just any sign of the mind control she swore she just saw. There was nothing. They didn't even look injured.

 _What is going_ on _here?_ The blonde slayer thought, concerned.

Before either her or Castiel could think on what to do next, fate decided for them.

"Oh! It's you two!"

Buffy froze, her eyes widening a fraction of a second. The slayer dragged her head back the other way to see none other than Dr. Clarke standing in the doorway to his class. He was holding textbooks against his chest with one arm, an expression of pleasant contentment (excitement?) on his face. "I knew I'd see you back here again."

"We were just leaving." Castiel responded warily.

Dr. Clarke's chipper mood seemed impenetrable. "Nonsense, _Marty_. One measly tour isn't enough for the full UIS experience." He protested, sounding supremely suave. His startling green gaze swept over the two, resting a moment longer on Buffy. He stepped aside and gestured to his class. "Why don't you two come in? Tour a bit longer. Future student-teacher chit-chat, perhaps." He proposed invitingly, a gleam in his eyes.

That rubbed Buffy the wrong way in so many ways. His pleasantries were far too charming to be real. She also didn't miss yet another lingering look he shot her, like he was proposing this to her _most_ of all.

Cas was giving the professor a look that was almost hard. "... Maybe later." The angel answered curtly, the double-meaning in his voice telling her exactly what was on his mind.

The blonde slayer, however, had a whole different _plan_ in mind.

Buffy forced a big smile. "Actually, why not. We got a little time to kill." She stated casually. Castiel tensed, shooting her a sharp look the slayer gladly ignored. "I've been sorta thinking about signing up for physics. Getting an offer for a more hands-on approach right off the bat ... what's not to love?" The small blonde reasoned brightly.

Dr. Clarke gave a wide, slow smile. Buffy kept right on smiling. Castiel leaned closer towards her. "I think it would be better to wait." The angel advised in a slightly more hushed voice, meaning written on his face.

The slayer could read between the lines. She glanced at him, still maintaining her smile. "Why wait?" Buffy replied flippantly. Fully registering the disapproving look in the angel's eyes, the blonde dropped the innocent act. "This is a _me_ thing, not a you thing ... the class. Just wait outside." She told him more seriously.

Castiel paused, seeming to weigh her words. Luckily he had caught on, but by the reluctance in his eyes he didn't like it. Buffy's resolve didn't falter. After another second, resignation took over the trench-coated angel and she sensed him accept.

The blonde focused back on Dr. Clarke, smiling cheerfully. "Shall we?" She offered, trying a little too hard to sound enthusiastic.

The British professor nodded. "We shall." He agreed, nodding his head with a self-satisfied smile. The smile dropped a second when his attention drifted to tense Castiel, an brief emotion flashing in there she couldn't quite interpret. But she didn't have the time. He turned back into his class, his white lab coat billowing out as he went.

As soon as his back was turned, Buffy's faux-smile dropped. She glanced pointedly at Castiel, silently warning him yet again to make sure he stayed put. The brown-haired angel still looked somewhat uncomfortable with her plan, but raised no argument as the slayer slowly turned back on Dr. Clarke and followed after him.

The blonde slayer entered the classroom, mentally going over her plan. She had to know what this Dr. Clarke guy was up to. What he _was_ , if he was evil and raring to cause trouble. Buffy suddenly found herself grateful she still had the angel blade directly on her, like she always used to with stakes. She was glad she had trusted her instinct. Whatever happened from here ... she was ready to fight.

This probably wasn't a good idea. Whatever this Dr. Clarke was, he wasn't her problem. Buffy was trying to heal her lack of nothing by doing _something_ , again. But she couldn't help it. Her slayer instinct was just too strong. Another part of her just kept saying ... if Dr. Clarke was evil _and_ a monster, how was it _not_ her business?

Dr. Clarke made his way over to his desk. Carefully concealing her cautiousness, Buffy sat herself down in the chair. She risked a quick glance at the door. Castiel was no longer directly in front of it. She couldn't see him anymore, but she had a pretty good feeling he was hanging around just outside the hall. The thought comforted her.

"I'm happy this class has aroused your interest, Buffy." Dr. Clarke began, sitting himself in his desk chair. "You seem like an energetic, enthusiastic type of girl. Always nice to see souls like that liven things up a bit." He praised politely. "Standards and regulations for this class, I have many of. I set ... _very_ high expectations." The British professor declared, a meaningful look entering his eyes.

The slayer nodded. "I get that. Hey, I _live_ for that. Raising the bar in everything ... totally my motto." Buffy remarked conversationally, gesturing with one arm as she spoke. "I'm a great student, _and_ a great worker. Efficient, progressive. I get things done ... _really_." The small blonde went on, her lighter mood dampening in the last sentence with her own _very_ real meaning.

Dr. Clarke regarded her in underwhelmed amusement. The upturned angle on his lips that typically resembled an blindly cheerful smile was starting to shift towards a more condescending smirk. "How refreshing. I just can't wait." He replied wryly.

Buffy smiled insincerely. The atmosphere between them was crackling with challenge and tension. Even though she was trying very little to hide her distrust at this point, the blonde gave the charade one more shot. "You're pretty young for a professor guy. Must be nice. Still being able to relate to all the kids these days."

The brown-haired professor chuckled. "Sadly, no. I can't begin to fathom these students and they're illogical, simple-minded ways. I'm more of an ... 'old soul.'" He mused distantly.

 _Strike one._ The slayer thought, her suspicions increasing. His charming, pleasant act was starting to fall apart. "I _bet_." Buffy replied sarcastically, still plastering on that fake smile.

Dr. Clarke didn't react, looking lost in his own thoughts. "Ahh ... science. Such an amazing thing, is it not?" He brought up suddenly, catching the blonde off guard just enough to drop her smile. "It takes so many forms. Life, nature, problem-solving. It has the power to create ... and the power to destroy. Such control over this little world." He reflected wistfully, admiration adorning his face. "It's such an astounding force. Don't you agree?"

Buffy stared at the professor. _Did he just wax poetry on science?_ She thought in disbelief. After the initial shock, the blonde felt deeper unease circulate inside her. There was something in that little Shakespeare speech. Something just behind the lines. Something _threatening_. Every muscle in her body was warning her.

 _Strike two._ She mentally noted. All false pleasantries and airs of Buffy's were dropped now. The blonde slayer regarded Dr. Clarke with skepticism, her green gaze hard and warning.

"Never really thought about it." Buffy answered cautiously. Her hand began unconsciously moving closer towards the inside of her jeans.

"Coming to this university has been such a blessing." Dr. Clarke continued on, not reacting to Buffy's tension. "Only a year ago, my life was quite different. I ... _transitioned_ , you could say. England had been entertaining once or twice, but I never quite ... _found_ what I wanted." The brown-haired professor admitted. His gaze rested on Buffy meaningfully. "That is, until this glorious country. Rich with opportunity, at last."

The small slayer fought the urge to leap to her feet, creating distance between them. Waves of suspicion flowed out of Buffy. Why was he looking at her like that? Why was he talking like that? It wasn't flirtatious. It wasn't friendly or even hateful, yet so intense. She already believed this man to be a monster. But what normal monster would address her like this?

Dr. Clarke folded his arms on his desks, leaning closer. Simultaneously, the blonde leaned back. "... You aren't from around here either, are you?" He said, the deep certainty in his tone startling the slayer. His piercing green eyes grew colder, more electrifying. "No ... you're from somewhere very, _very_ far away." The professor drawled ominously.

The meaningful voice, the absolute knowing chilled the blonde slayer right to the bone. Shock, disbelief, and confusion swept over her in a sea of chaos. Before she could think on it, something caught her eye. The lab coat covering most of Dr. Clarke's neck had pulled back as he leaned closer and finally she saw it. Sickly green veins covered his neck, branching out in every direction on both sides.

 _Strike three._

Buffy gave a glib smile. "I'm an exchange student." She remarked wryly. In a burst of supernatural speed, the blonde slayer gripped the desk and flipped it, throwing it directly at the professor with all her strength. It hit him head on, snapping in half from the force. Papers and other desk supplies scattered the room. "The type that _exchanges_ ass-kickings." The blonde clarified feelingly.

Dr. Clarke pushed the broken desk pieces off him, getting to his feet without a scratch. Buffy's defenses were high, her angel blade already drawn and starting to circle him. "Now I don't know who or _what_ you are, _Professor Otto_ ... but the role-playing ends _now_." She threatened adamantly.

The professor chuckled. " ... I was _waiting_." He admitted smoothly, smirking.

"Let's not." The blonde deadpanned.

With a grunt, the slayer pulled back her blade and charged the monster. She aimed the blade instinctively for his heart. The slash only hit air when Dr. Clarke dodged the potentially fatal blow, grabbing a large piece of wood off the ground as he threw it at her. Coming at her too fast too dodge, Buffy angled her leg and kicked at the wood, breaking it in half. She marched on towards him, getting out of the corner and taking the fight deeper into the room.

Dr. Clarke was not running through. As Buffy charged him, tossing up student desks as she went, the monster professor meet her head-on. The slayer threw multiple slashes of her blade at him, but he swiftly dodged them. Frustrated, the slayer tried a different trajectory, but he caught her arm and twisted it. Sharp, surprising pain went up the slayer's arm.

 _He's strong. Real strong._ Buffy thought uneasily, gritting her teeth as she glared at him. She tried to break his grip, but it was too strong. Ignoring the increasing pain and instead fueling the anger caused by the arrogant smirk in her face, the slayer swung her leg and kicked him in the face. Dr. Clarke fell a few feet, stumbling.

Buffy shook out her arm. Any later and it might've been broken. "Now I'm kinda curious. Have you ever tried foundation for all those little green vein-ys?" The slayer went on casually, filled with determination. 'Cause the _'au natrurale'_ look ... _really_ not attractive." She taunted, back with another angel blade counter-attack.

Dr. Clarke dodged. The slayer only came back with another slash, but things had switched up. In a sudden show of speed, between blocking and attacking, the monster professor hit her with a sweeping kick to the side. Buffy gasped, pain reveberating across her and she swore she heard a crack. The winded slayer tripped not to fall over and keep on the defensive. Dr. Clarke, however, was too fast. Finding a momentary opening, the monster caught one of her arms with the other hand wrapped around her neck.

The monster professor smiled almost indulgently. "You underestimate the power of an accent." He responded dryly.

Furious and more than shocked at this weird burst of speed, Buffy struggled defiantly against the hold on her neck and the difficult breathing. Before she could find a way out of it, movement beside the classroom door interrupted them.

"Buffy!"

Castiel was standing in the doorway, concern and shock on his face as he took in the chaotic scene. His eyes slid to Dr. Clarke, who was regarding the angel with only mild amusement, still keeping his grip on the blonde slayer's neck. A angel blade slipped out of Cas's trenchcoat in a second and he lunged determinedly at the creature.

Dr. Clarke didn't even budge. Just as the angel was right beside them, he gave a wave of his free hand. Buffy watched in amazement as Castiel was thrown backwards, right out the door again. He landed harshly in the hallway. Cas was stubborn though. He was already getting back up on his feet.

The professor smiled, clearly relishing the look of anger and determination on the angel's face. "Hello, Castiel. Haven't seen you in a millennium." Dr. Clarke said in sarcastic pleasantries. Castiel faltered at this a second, looking just as surprised as Buffy felt. The creature only smiled further. "Don't you recognize me?" He asked teasingly.

The disbelief and questioning filtered out of the angel's expression, becoming darker. A mixture of unease, dismay, and anger clouded Castiel's normally calm gaze. He glowered. " _You_ ..." Cas said tersely, sounding disgusted.

Castiel rushed forward again. This time he bounced off, repelled back into the hall. The trench-coated angel stared in confusion, reaching forward with his hand into the door. Suddenly blue energy crackled in the doorway. Cas pulled away like he had been shocked, standing still and staring in astonished disbelief.

"A ... forcefield ..." Buffy recognized shakily, clutching Dr. Clarke's wrist as she fought to loosen his grip.

"Pardon your watchdog angel's interruption. Let's get back to us, shall we?" Dr. Clarke remarked smoothly, turning his eerie gaze back on the blonde. He smiled coldly. "I don't much care for Castiel. _You_ , on the other hand ... so _very_ interesting. A diamond in the rough." The creature went on, sounding intrigued.

The slayer pulled at the monster's creature grip one more time, but it didn't budge. Her frustration sky-rocketed. With a grunt of rage, Buffy focused her strength and kicked Dr. Clarke in the stomach with all her might. Pressure finally left her throat as the professor yelled, falling straight to the floor as his head hit a student desk.

Buffy was breathing heavily, one hand holding her neck as she gingerly felt signs of bruising. She glared at the creature. "What can I say. I'm a knock-out." She remarked breathlessly, bitterness in her voice as she reclaimed her angel blade off the ground.

Castiel was frantically throwing himself against the forcefield, trying to reach the slayer. "Careful! He's a _demon_! He's—"

Dr. Clarke shot Castiel a piercing stare, his green gaze intensifying startlingly. The angel suddenly closed his mouth, silenced as thorough confusion and alarm consumed his expression. Buffy couldn't help but notice the conflict dancing in his eyes.

The slayer realized right away. "Mind control." The blonde identified grimly. She tore her attention from Cas. "Telekinesis, forcefields, mind control. Anything else in that variety pack I should know about?" Buffy broached, hostility in her face.

The so-called demon was on his feet. "That would ruin the _surprise_." He answered mockingly, still as cool as a cucumber.

Unease sharpened her frustration, but the blonde stayed controlled. She shrugged. "Well, at least I know what you are. Means I know how to kill you." Buffy stated feelingly, clutching her blade tighter. She forced a smile. "Too bad. You had a _really_ nice set-up here, getting apples every day and a pension plan. Must suck, knowing you blew cover. Now you can kiss all that hiding goodbye."

"Do you really think it's that simple?" Dr. Clarke responded, sounding unreasonably amused. Buffy narrowed her eyes. He smirked arrogantly. "What the human souls outside this room are seeing ... well, let it be said it is something _quite_ different from you and me." The demon revealed meaningfully.

 _He can do_ _illusions too?_ The blonde realized, overwhelmed now. The beginnings of dread sunk deeper inside her. This creature had so many powers. In all the enemies she had fought before, they had never had this much. Was there more? Endless confusion nagged at her. Dean and Sam had never her told her the demons here could be like this.

But even with all her doubts, all her sudden question marks over just what exactly she walked into ... Buffy refused to back down. She refused to run.

Bravely, the blonde raised her blade. "Running out of surprises here, Clarkie." The slayer mocked, deadpan.

Buffy moved to attack again, but as she started charging the monster kept on talking. "I can't express enough how much of a pleasure it is to finally meet you in person ... _Miss Summers_." Dr. Clarke declared. The blonde froze, eyes widening as she registered her last name. "I've been expecting you."

For a moment, nothing computed in Buffy. Her mind went blank. But when it did compute, it was with enough force of an anvil on her. This demon knew her. _More_ than knew her. She stood there a long moment, just staring. The slayer's gaze narrowed. " ... It was you." She finally replied softly.

Then the blonde was on him. Buffy lunged at the demon like a rabid dog. She punched the creature brutally in the face, snapping his head back and then another punch to the gut. "You did _this_ to me!" She snarled. Another punch, only this time Dr. Clarke deflected. Buffy came sailing at him with the blade in her hand. "You brought me _here_!" The demon dodged again. The two were locked between blocks and blows, though the slayer was oblivious to any pain. "You _stranded_ me here!" A roundhouse kick hit Dr. Clarke in his stomach, this time with so much force he flew and fell on top of a student's desk. " _Everything_ that happened ... it's because of _you_!"

Buffy stalked over to Dr. Clarke. Rage boiled her blood. Her wounds, her pain. She didn't feel any of it anymore. All she felt was her fury. The weight of everything she had been through since the very moment she woke up next to that Kansas sign. Every negative emotion she had repressed flooded to the surface.

Just as Dr. Clarke started to regain himself, the slayer was there. Buffy grabbed a fistful of his lab coat and shirt, pulling him right to her face as she pointed the angel blade right to his throat. "Bring me back. Bring me back _now_!" The blonde demanded furiously.

Even with the death she was emanating, the demon still had to gall to take all this in with a smirk. He shook his head. "You're wrong, Miss Summers. I'm not the one who brought you here." Dr. Clarke told her matter-of-factly.

Buffy glared dangerously at him. "You expect me to believe that?" She growled, her voice harsh with scorn.

"I am not the creature that sent you to this world. What I _am_ is someone who knew you would arrive." The powerful demon began vaguely, sounding calm despite the knife to his throat. He smirked mockingly. "Ohh, I wish I could take the credit for your enlightening little field trip, ... but alas, I can't. I just knew you'd come."

The certainty in the demon's voice put a crack into the slayer's rush of blind rage. _He knew? What?_ She thought incredulously, baffled. There was so many things about that that did not make sense to her, but as cynical as she was it couldn't help but make her think. If he was telling her the truth, then did he know who _did_ bring her here?

Buffy regarded the creature suspiciously, not pulling back her blade. "What do you mean you _knew_?" She questioned warily.

Dr. Clarke smiled slowly. With speed too quick for her to follow, the demon clutched her arm holding the knife to his throat. Before he could twist it away, the blonde came back to herself. She fought against him with her strength. For a moment they stood in place, fighting against each other's power.

Unease ripped through her again. _He's so strong ... stronger than most demons here._

Against all her might, Dr. Clarke overpowered her. In a burst of strength he shoved her away. Just before her balance started to fail her, Buffy gave one more fluid strike of her angel blade. Sizzling and a welcoming sound of pain greeted the slayer just as she began toppling. Pain danced across her ribs as her side hit the floor, but Buffy gritted her teeth and rolled over, forcing herself into a crouching position.

Dr. Clarke stood there, staring at a bleeding and sizzling cut across his arm. Irritation flitted across his face. Finally he shook his head and laughed wryly. "Angel blade soaked in holy water ... impressive. There's that unconventional Buffy Summers' ingenuity I've heard _so much_ about." He remarked with feeling.

 _He's heard about me? From where?_ Buffy couldn't help but think, just as annoyed as she was concerned. Crowley couldn't have already figured out who and what she was, could he? Was he that good? Was this unusual demon after her _too_?

The powerful demon began rushing towards her again. The slayer was holding her side, wincing as the pain on both sides of her ribs paralyzed her a second. She knew some of them were broken, possibly all of them bruised. Since she was hurting all over in general, she couldn't really tell right now. She willed herself to ignore it. Dr. Clarke was coming. He was coming fast.

"Oh yeah? You like?" Buffy goaded on the demon, tone not as strong as before but still snarky. In a dangerous moment of closeness, the blonde dragged her sore body and swept her legs, tripping his feet out from under him. In speed just from willpower, Buffy grabbed her angel blade. She rushed a surprised Dr. Clarke, embedding the blade right into his chest. "Wait 'till you try out the stab to the chest." She deadpanned.

Sizzling smoke rose around the blade. Dr. Clarke screamed. The slayer twisted it around for good measure, embedding it deeper. The demon screeched even higher as it aggravated the burning. In a fluid movement, Buffy jerked it out. She watched as Dr. Clarke stumbled away, clutching the hole in his chest as he shook his head.

But something was wrong. Dr. Clarke didn't fall over or let out a death cry. There was no white light. No dramatic monster death. Nothing was happening. Only smoke from the holy water kept on sizzling, but the demon was just standing. He was _still standing_.

"Why aren't you dead?" Buffy asked in disbelief, shaken.

Dr. Clarke raised his head, still holding his sizzling chest wound painfully. The holy water smoke was starting to clear out. The demon managed an condescending smirk. " ... I thought it was already clear enough, little girl. I'm not like other demons." The brown-haired professor announced arrogantly, the unadulterated glee in his starling eyes terrifying.

The blonde slayer froze, speechless by shock and horror. This demon was _unreal_. He had so many abilities it'd even give demons from her universe a run for their money. He was so powerful physically compared to the demons in this world before. Was he actually stronger than her?

Dean and Sam had _not_ prepared her for this. Buffy felt like she just walked in on something she had no comprehension of.

Dr. Clarke was back for another counter-attack. Startled, Buffy dodged a punch of his. Another sailed towards her. The blonde slayer moved to catch it, but her reaction time had slowed from her injuries. She couldn't act in time. Dr. Clarke's crushing punch hit. Then another and before Buffy knew it, the demon gripped her a whole arm and kneed it.

Bones shattered. The small slayer gasped in sharp pain. She tried to use her uninjured arm to throw a punch back at him, but Dr. Clarke only dodged. The powerful demon kneed her in the stomach and threw her flying across the room. Buffy went through the air like a ragdoll, hitting her back brutally on the edge of a student desk before toppling to the floor.

The blonde slayer groaned, her back singing with agony. She felt a sticky coating of blood from a newly-fresh cut on her forehead as she rolled off that desk. The urge to fall unconscious was so dangerously tempting. She fought to stay awake.

Dr. Clarke was strolling casually over to her, a tsking sound escaping his lips. He was shaking his head. "Y'know ... it didn't have to be this way. I quite hoped to talk this all out." He began with ease, tone matter-of-fact. He sighed. "Slayers, hunters ... you're one in the same. Always solving everything through violence." He declared, sounding utterly unimpressed.

Buffy raised her head, pain-sharpened rage pulsing through her. She reached for the angel blade in front of her slowly with her unbroken arm, stretching out even when every muscle in her was rebelling. Dr. Clarke stopped in front of her, an unreadable look on his face. "Would you believe I actually respect you? Your abilities, your will, your _track record_. You'd be an amazing asset." He praised.

Underneath the pain, confusion was starting to set in. _Is he propositioning me?_ The slayer wondered. On the outside, Buffy kept her hard and cold stare. " ... I think I can be an asset _all_ _by myself_." She managed to reply, an edge to her voice.

Dr. Clarke snorted. "A waste of your potential. Your obsession with goodness, responsibility, _heroism_. Like you owe something to a world that's only ever taken from you." The demon described in disgust. At Buffy's shocked expression, the monster smiled indulgently. "I've heard many, many things about you, Buffy Summers. All your stories, your losses ..."

"You don't know _anything_." Buffy said in a dangerously low tone.

"I know more than you realize." The powerful demon answered meaningfully, unintimidated. After a beat, his expression softened. "For too many years, you've sacrificed. Over and over. And it never ends, huh? There's always someone else or _something_ else _._ Now that doesn't quite seem fair, does it?" Dr. Clarke's tone was frighteningly gentle. "You're tired. You're miserable. You're _empty_ inside. So much given up ... all for _nothing_."

The blonde slayer watched Dr. Clarke in disgust. Why did this demon know so much about her history? How dare he talk about her as if he knew her?

Dr. Clarke's startling, inhumanly green eyes intensified to piercing levels. "That can change, y'know. You can let it all go. All that fear of not being wholesome or good or _perfect_ enough." He pressed intensely. "We can be allies, you and I. Come with me. Take all that pain and bitterness out on the world ... because it's not like it ever did a thing for _you_." He insisted meaningfully. "You'll have purpose again. Finally."

The slayer shook her head, a bitter chuckle escaping her. " _That's_ what this is? _'Come to dark side. We have cookies.'_ " Buffy mocked incredulously. Instantly she hardened again. "I'm _never_ gonna be evil. _Ever_. The only purpose _I_ need in my life is taking down monsters like _you_ ... and hey. Already there." The slayer stated strongly, defiance in eyes. She clutched at the angel blade, emphasizing her words.

Dr. Clarke stared at her through narrowed eyes. Buffy's hateful glare didn't waver. She tried to get up, ignoring her still practically broken body. The demon noticed this and his face fell. "A deadly choice. And here I was, trying to spare you." The professor remarked, sounding genuinely disappointed. "You'll regret this day sooner than you think." He declared, stepping away from her. Meaning filled his gaze. "You have a dark future ahead of you, Buffy Summers ... Even you will not make it out."

The slayer was nearly trembling with fury. " ... What _are_ you?" Buffy snarled.

Dr. Clarke smiled sinisterly. "See you then."

Before the blonde could know what was going on, Dr. Clarke gave a wave of his arm. A green, swirling portal opened up beside him. A pulling sensation overcame the slayer, vacuuming her off the ground. Pain was squashed by vertigo as Buffy started slipping into the portal. The last thing the slayer saw was Dr. Clarke stepping back with a cold smile and everything faded out ...

 _ **####**_

"Buffy. Wake up ..."

A low droning noise filtered into the blonde slayer's ear, the very first sign of consciousness. At first she ignored it, but then the droning persisted and this time got louder. Slowly she realized the sound was not a droning, but a voice. Buffy screwed up her face. She cracked opened her eyes slowly. The shape in front of her was blurry at first, but soon she recognized the grim-looking expression.

"Cas?" The blonde muttered, frowning.

The angel was kneeling in front of her, one of his arms resting on his knee. The blonde slayer started to get up. Instant pain shot up throughout her body, particularly from her ribs. Buffy took pressure off her broken arm, pulling herself up with the other and wincing. Her whole body felt as if it had just been put through a meat grinder. She imagined she looked even worse.

Remembering, the slayer jogged awake. She glanced at Castiel with widened eyes. "What happened? Where are we?" She asked in bewilderment, glancing around. They looked like they were in the back of building. She had woken up right next to a dumpster. Buffy wrinkled her nose slightly. She _knew_ something had smelled off.

"North Dakota." Castiel answered matter-of-factly, not reacting to absolute shock on the blonde's face. "The demon sent us both here through a portal. When I arrived here, you were unconscious." He explained.

 _Why didn't he just kill us?_ Buffy thought disbelievingly. She knew Dr. Clarke easily could have, at least given her condition. Why didn't he try to kill Castiel either? Did they fight?

The blonde slayer worked herself into a sit-up position, willing herself to ignore aches and pains of her stiff body. Buffy stared at Cas seriously. " ... You two recognized each other. You know who ... _what_ he is?" She questioned interrogatively.

Castiel grimaced. "I do. Maybe. Or ... I _did_." The angel stated wearily, looking away. He seemed hopelessly confused.

Buffy wasn't satisfied by the doubt in his voice. "This isn't _Rubik's Cube_ complicated. Yes or no." She prompted sternly.

The trench-coated angel sighed. "It's been centuries since I last saw this demon. He's changed significantly since that time. He's ...' _impure'_." Cas declared seriously. He shook his head, frustration and worry marring his face. "I never expected this." He muttered.

The blonde slayer still didn't understand. She frowned at him. " .. Oh." Buffy muttered lamely. "Wow. I spent _all_ this time thinking demons did things like donate to charity and work at a soup kitchen behind all that murder and evisceration ... " The small blonde began dryly, pulling herself to her feet. Her whole body shrieked in protest. "But sure. _Now_ I see they're unclean." She stated, her supreme snark coming out more tired from pain.

Buffy held her ribs with her unbroken arm, certain they were also broken. She tried to mentally assess every injury which wasn't that easy because it felt like they were everywhere. The blonde slayer couldn't believe the power the creature demonstrated. After the measly black-eyed demons, she had in no way been ready for that one's touch. She _still_ wasn't.

Casitiel regarded her almost with concern. "You're wounded." He pointed out meaningfully, his gaze taking in her stiffness and limp left arm and god knows what else was there. "I can heal you." He declared, reaching for her with his arm.

His words startled Buffy. She quickly shook her head. "No, it's okay. I don't need an angelic _Red Cross_. Beauty of slayer healing." The blonde denied graciously. Every tired and bruised muscle ached for her to say yes, but Buffy wasn't going to take advantage of Cas like that.

Castiel looked at her reprovingly, then reached out his arm again. Buffy swiftly tried to move away, then flinched and stopped when the sudden quicker movement jarred her wounds again. The angel put two fingers on her forehead. A strange warmth encased her. Suddenly all pain and soreness melted away. Buffy glanced down at herself, wide-eyed as she saw the bruises disappear.

 _That was ... cool._ Buffy thought, in awe despite herself. After a moment, the slayer regrouped herself and looked back at Cas. " ... Okay. Angel healing 1, Slayer healing 0." The blonde admitted easily. One of her arms no longer broken, she crossed them. "But _don't_ think I'm making that into a habit." She said more sternly.

"Just be glad you're alive. With the battle's brutality, it could've ended much more deadly." He told her seriously, blue gaze stern. The angel's expression softened. "I watched your fight against him. I wanted to join you, but the barrier he obstructed was too strong. I'm ... sorry." Castiel stated regretfully.

The small slayer didn't respond. The horrific and shocking events of her fight with Dr. Clarke seeped to the forefront of her mind. Unease and a little fear flickered in the slayer. " ... I stabbed him, Cas. I stabbed in him in the chest with the angel blade and he didn't die." Buffy told him gravely, eyes filled with meaning and questions.

Castiel paused. " ... I know." He acknowledged grimly. The angel looked worried, which bothered Buffy more. An angel should _never_ look worried. He gave a small sigh. "We need Sam and Dean."

The blonde was uneasy, but nodded agreement. She hoped Sam and Dean could explain away everything she just saw today or at least clarify why they didn't her tell demons in this world had special abilities like the ones in hers too. Except that just brought up another question. Why _wouldn't_ they tell her? They drilled her for hours on everything else.

Anxiety intensified in the slayer. She had a _really_ bad feeling the brothers were about to have another a huge problem on their plates thanks to this demon ... and Buffy couldn't help but wonder if now she was tied into that too.

Buffy hesitated, grappling with her overwhelming questions. " ... He knew about me. The demon. How I got here, where I'm from. But even with the freaky portal act, he _says_ he wasn't the one that sent me here." The blonde brought up, a hint of frustration slipping into her voice a second. She looked at Cas hopelessly. "Do you think he was telling the truth?"

Sympathy coated the angel's face. " ... Demons are liars and world-class manipulators. It'd be foolish to trust it." The trench-coated angel remarked matter-of-factly.

 _Normally I'm all for that bumper sticker, but right now ... I dunno. Something's just_ wrong _here._ The blonde thought, frustrated and so confused. She came to this university looking for a dimension scythe and instead she found that demon. That couldn't be a coincidence. The demon seemed to know things about her and had a teleportation ability which again, all perfectly aligned with him sending her here. That's what _everyone_ would think ... at first.

But there was one nagging question that was starting to register to Buffy. If Dr. Clarke is responsible for her being stuck in a different world, then why wouldn't he tell her? Where was the "muwahaha-you're-never-going-home-and-your-world-is-screwed-in-apocalyptic-doom" speech?

Castiel started dialing his cell phone, likely calling one of the brothers. Buffy hardly noticed, consumed by her thoughts and worries. She just didn't know anymore. If Dr. Clarke was guilty, if he wasn't. All she did know was that demon knew more than he was telling and that was a problem no matter which way you sliced it.

Amongst all of her troublesome thoughts, Dr. Clarke's ominous message rang in her ears. ' _You have a dark future ahead of you, Buffy Summers ... Even you will not make it out.'_ The voice whispered. Even though she told herself to ignore it, that it was nothing she hadn't heard before, it stuck with her. Deep foreboding sunk into the blonde slayer's being.

Dr. Clarke's words didn't sound like a threat. They sounded like a _prophecy_.

* * *

~~Dean~~

Dean had been having a really weird last couple of weeks.

So weird, in fact, functional alcoholic Dean Winchester lived in the bottle even more than usual. If things weren't progressing much lately on the goal front and you were constantly surrounded by things related to that that made no damn sense, then who needed a liver, right? Just mellow yourself out, stop asking questions, and drink. It was the good life.

So that's what the Winchester did. Continue hunting, even if what you were hunting went against everything you believed. There was no good explanation, but whatever. Just find the son of bitch already and then he'd stop caring. After finding out about Lucifer's crypts and the pissing contest between Crowley and Question Mark demon, Dean felt he was getting closer to that. Don't think. Just do.

So when a certain blonde with a bad name but cute everywhere else, the one weird thing these past weeks he oddly didn't have as much trouble accepting, swung by the Men of Letters bunker just a day after with his angel best friend and tons of "new information" ... Dean's precarious sanity naturally got shot up all to Hell.

"I'm sorry ... _what_?" Dean said in flat tone, throwing out his hand as he stared tensely at them.

"He was posing as a professor. For some time, it seemed. He likely moved locations after the battle—" Castiel was explaining as he casually he could, completely calm.

The hunter waved his hand impatiently for him to stop. "No, no, no, no, no. I mean the _other_ what." Dean interrupted curtly.

Unlike Cas, Buffy looked uncomfortable. "I fought him. He pulled out a bunch of powers on me. Locked Cas out of the room with a forcefield, pulled a mind whammy with the students, then finally sending us both trundling through a portal to a North Dakota dumpster. Oh, and no one noticed back at UIS. Illusions. Also a thing." She summed up quickly, giving an innocent shrug.

The Winchester stared, beyond speechless as he opened his mouth and tried to speak. He kept shaking his head. "See ... that's-that's where you lose me. You say that and I-I don't ... I don't hear _you_. I hear some nasally, loserific nerd spilling his comic juice all over the place." Dean described colorfully, throwing out his hand. For once, he was hardly joking.

The blonde smiled wryly. "Sorry. Left _him_ behind. Just a compromised, emotionally numb, abstract Buffy." The slayer quipped.

Dean blinked, still half-convinced the blonde would pull the wool out of his eyes and call this all a bad joke. He had expected the idea that they may be a different type of demon out there than the black-eyed ones he and Sam always fought, but this? A demon having all these magical, supervillain powers? It was just too much.

Sam, also reduced to a ball of silence by this crap explanation beside him, finally seemed to snap out of it. "And this thing was a _demon_?" His younger brother said incredulously.

Buffy shrugged. "Well, that's what _Cassie_ over here says. Still waiting on an _actual_ explanation." She answered with a tinge of impatience, shooting the angel a pointed look.

"Cas. Any chance you're gonna be a pal here and save me that last chip off my sanity?" Dean asked tersely, keeping his expression controlled as he desperately prayed his best friend would have a better answer.

Castiel looked at him resignedly. "It's a demon."

"Guess not." The older Winchester replied flatly, completely done.

"But demons can't do _half_ the things you're saying this Dr. Clarke guy did. Not ours. I mean, _force-fields_? Illusions? Where the hell did all that come from?" Sam voiced his exact thoughts, frowning as he threw out his hands.

The older Winchester shook his head. "We're in _Comicland_ now, Sammy." Dean remarked in forced humor, a bitter smile on his face. He glanced at his brother. " _Comicland_." He repeated more meaningfully, disgust filling his face.

"I understand this is a lot to absorb ..." The trench-coated angel said in discomfort.

" _No_ , Cas!" Dean broke in sharply, whirling on his friend. "The series finale of _The Sopranos_... that's a lot to absorb. Watching _A_ _Space Odyssey_ and _Eraserhead_ back to back. That's a frickin' migraine. You're talking about a demon with a thousand different powers running around! That's a _crisis_!" The hunter said in frustration.

"Is it a new kind of demon or-or ...?" Sam pushed, throwing out his arms and looking baffled but desperate to understand. Like he often did, Dean envied this brother in that moment. When Dean was shut down, Sammy kept right on plowing. What a trooper.

Castiel's expression grew serious. "It's not a new demon. As a matter of fact ... it's quite the opposite."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Look, can we just drop the caginess and the round-abouts and get to the frickin' point?" The blonde grumbled, her arms crossed.

The older Winchester whole-heartedly agreed with that sentiment. "What'dya say, Cas? Got something you wanna share with the class?" Dean prompted pointedly, just as impatient as he made gesture to them with his arm.

His best friend paused, lowering his head thoughtfully. " ... The demon's name is Labolas." Cas finally began, looking them in the eye. "He was the second demon ever created and Lucifer's best general. He led an army of thirty-six demons. All of them were particularly ruthless, sadistic. Labolas was the worst. A progenitor of chaos, murder and destruction." The angel explained, even more grave. "He disappeared a long time ago after a confrontation with the archangels. We all thought he was dead."

"Seems pretty spry for a dead guy." Buffy deadpanned.

Dean took in all this information with increasingly growing apprehension. "One of the first demons?"

"Like Lilith?" Sam asked.

The angel nodded. "Yes, exactly. He was exceptionally powerful and revered. At one point in time, Lucifer trusted him above all."

"So he was Lucifer- _lite_." Dean guessed with certainty, frowning slightly. While he stayed calm, the hunter felt another pull of concern. Nothing could ever be worse than Lucifer, but a demon that served as second-in-command to the damn devil was severely dangerous. Not to mention the fact he was a first demon. _No wonder he was so hard to kill._

Buffy was staring at the three of them, slightly wide-eyed. "You mean Lucifer as in _The Devil_?"

Sam sighed. "Yeah. Every bit as much as a dick as the Bible says." The brown-haired hunter remarked with feeling, a far-away look in his eyes. Dean knew his brother was remembering things he wished he could forgot.

The blonde slayer's eyes widened even more. "You _met_ him?!" She said incredulously.

The older hunter gave her a meaningful look. "Oh, sweetheart. Save that pretty little head of yours. You do _not_ want to open that can of worms." Dean told her with absolute feeling, for both her sake and Sam's.

Buffy blinked numbly. After a moment of processing, she shook her head. She did a crossing gesture with her arms, a forced smile coming to her face. "Y'know what? I'm just gonna do myself a big favor and not question _anything_ anymore. Saves me the catatonia." The slayer decided firmly.

 _Good luck with that. It's not gonna last long._ Dean responded silently, talking from experience.

Apparently switching back to her practical hunter side (slayer side ... whatever), the small blonde refocused on Castiel. "So Labolas is one of the first demons. They're high up the bar. That's why the angel blade didn't kill him, right? They don't work on them?" She guessed, her green eyes fixed on him intently.

Instantaneous alarm spiked up in Dean at this information. He exchanged a startled glance with his little brother. Sam had the same look on him: shock, unease ... and a little fear.

Castiel gave the blonde hunter a long look. " ... No. They _do_." The angel corrected in a grave and meaningful tone, saying what both Sam and Dean had been thinking.

Buffy pulled back, her face scrunching in a frown. "What? Then why ...?" She questioned in bewilderment, trailing away when she noticed the sudden tension and seriousness hanging off Sam and Dean as well. She quieted, looking between them uneasily.

"Cas. If Labolas is just one of the earlier demons ... then he should be _dead_." Sam argued incredulously. "And those magical powers ... it's still the same red flag. Demons don't just _have_ powers like that." The brown-haired hunter stressed meaningfully, throwing out an arm.

The angel's expression became thoughtful. "Labolas was always an anomaly. He had gifts, limited as they were."

"Coming from the gal who he practically bended into a pretzel, his 'gifts' seem pretty _un_ limited to me." Buffy spoke up doubtfully, her expression serious. "I don't know much about old demons and their power levels here ... but the baby ones? They're only a little less strong than me." The blonde assessed. Her green eyes grew worried. "But _he_ was stronger. Maybe ... even stronger than me."

If possible, Dean's attitude plummeted even more dramatically. Their one supernatural asset outside of Cas and apparently she got beat up and tossed around. How the hell could two well-trained, experienced, determined but still very _human_ hunters face up against a monster like that?

"You still haven't explained all those other powers, Cas." Sam brought up, his gaze fixed on his friend meaningfully. "If Labolas is just a first demon with normal demon powers, then where the _hell_ did it get the other ones?"

Castiel said nothing and just stared at Sam. The hopeless look on his face wasn't at all comforting.

If Dean's mood had been low before, now it hit negatives. Plagued with doubt, fear, and very real concern, the hunter turned and walked closer towards his friend. He stopped in front of him, letting out a breath. "Cas ... _what the hell_?" He demanded in tired frustration, throwing out his arms.

The angel sighed. "I don't know. It's nothing I could fully explain."

"Well, explain anyway! I'll take one _word_ at this point." The Winchester said impatiently.

Castiel raised his head, considering. "Labolas _was_ a demon. He didn't have a plethora of special abilities. He was a regular demon, just like the others." The trench-coated angel stated strongly. A graver look entered his eyes. "But something ... changed him during his disappearance. Those abilities he demonstrated ... he didn't always have them. No _true_ demon does. It's not natural." He revealed disconcertingly.

Sam stared at the angel steadily. " ... Almost like he's tainted." The younger hunter stated, meaning in his voice as he shot a look at Dean.

Finally it hit Dean. Everything strange that happened over the past three weeks joined and knitted together like a puzzle to one ugly picture. The older Winchester quietly scoffed. "Crap." He realized lamely, rolling his eyes in frustration.

"Labolas was the one slaughtered all those demons at the crypts. He's the one with the different sulfur, the one that screwed over Crowley. It was all behind him." Sam declared with increasing certainty.

" _Really?_ The renegade, too cool for Hell, Crowley-scaring freak? It's a demon with upgrade? _Dr._ _Strange_?" Dean described incredulously, scowling as he threw out his hand.

Buffy was nodding thoughtfully. "No, it makes sense. He's definitely not normal. Killing a bunch of demons and putting in a kink in the King of Hell's evil to-do list, all the while not getting caught _once_? He could do all that easy, not breaking a sweat." The blonde slayer agreed with confidence.

Castiel also gave a slight nod. "It was Labolas."

Dean crossed his arms. He wouldn't even try arguing against that and he didn't want to. The older hunter was incredulous of the situation, not of the culprit. He supposed he should've been satisfied, finally knowing who was behind this. All Dean really felt though was unease and a feeling that him and his brother were about to get tangled in something way above their heads ... again.

The hunter tried to push aside his worries and focus on something else out of this mess. "So he's after Lucifer's crypts. Like Crowley. Do we even wanna know what's in that thing?" He reflected pessimistically.

Sam shook his head. "If they're both after them, Dean, ... then we _need_ to." He didn't sound thrilled either, but there wasn't any uncertainty.

Castiel tensed. " ... Lucifer's crypts?"

Only then did Dean realize they hadn't explained about the crypts. The hunter shrugged. "We got a demon to squeal. Turns out Crowley's M.O. is locating Lucifer's crypts. Labolas' break-away solo album got them all kinds of bankrupt. Hell's hitting ground zero." The Winchester explained casually, satisfaction flowing over him as he imagined Hell's sorry state. Sucked to be Crowley.

The angel stepped closer to them, a particularly intent look gathering in his eyes. "Do you know why they're after the crypts?" Cas pressed cautiously.

"That, my friend ... is all part of the ride." Dean answered nonchalantly as he threw out his arms, though his expression and mood was actually bitter. He wished they did know what the hell was in those things. It had to be terrible, capturing the interest of two demons.

"We're working on it." Sam assured the angel.

Castiel said nothing, a distant and largely unreadable look in his eyes.

"Hell being all out of whack is a good thing. But Labolas ... he's the _real_ problem." Buffy mentioned somberly, her gaze looking over the trio meaningfully. "I know you know he's bad and all ... but you don't know how _bad_. I fought him and even _I_ couldn't win. You can't beat him." The blonde slayer declared.

Dean regarded her with mild irritation. "You are one _sucky_ cheerleader." The hunter said with feeling, shaking his head.

"I'm not _cheerleading_! I'm _warning_ you." She retorted sharply. "I'm not asking you to give up. You _shouldn't_. I'm just saying you two need to figure out a way to kill him before facing him." Buffy went on strongly. Her expression softened somewhat. "No one else needs to die. Especially not you two." The blonde said solemnly.

Dean stared at her a long moment. Mixed feelings surged through him. On one hand, he was grateful. He could see in the sincerity in the blonde and that she genuinely cared for him and Sam. A part of him—to varying degrees—always expected he might die in his next monster fight anyway. On the other hand, he didn't like the way this woman talked to him and Sam sometimes. She spoke like they didn't know what they were doing. She was younger than _them_ and acted like she was so all-knowing. Like she knew better than them somehow when it came to hunting and that was just so damn untrue.

The hunter shrugged and shook his head. "Hey. You ain't telling us anything we don't already know." Dean began straightforwardly. "Sam and I know the score. Been doing it over and over. We're not the ones you need to worry about." He told her more sternly. Buffy looked slightly surprised at his gruffness, but he kept going. "You've been doing this gig for what, ten years? We've been doing it our _whole lives_. We're good!" The Winchester stressed with just a little frustration, throwing out his arm.

Buffy was silent, a mixture of contemplation and annoyance on her face. Sam decided it was the time to step in. "We appreciate the concern. We're gonna be careful. Thanks for the advice, but we got it covered." The brown-haired hunter assured her, nodding.

Dean snorted. His little brother felt the same as him, but was too nice to be blunt about it, feeding the woman's superiority complex which he didn't need to be a psychologist to know she _clearly_ had. It's not even that the older Winchester had a issue with Buffy personally. She was awesome. She could be worried for them. Hell, she could even play nurse for him _personally_ if he had it his way. Dean only asked for some damn respect as respective hunters. Was that too much to ask?

Sighing, the older hunter knew it was long past this conversation to blow over. "Back in that fight with Labolas ... you said he teleported you out. If it was beating you down that much, then you were pretty banged up. Why'd he just whisk you out and not kill you?" Dean asked warily, his arms crossed.

That certainly changed Buffy's mood. The blonde slayer's expression darkened. " 'Cause he didn't _want_ to. Half of that fight was literally just him stalling to get to the bad guy proposition part of the evening. Be his partner or new evil bestie." She admitted reluctantly, palpable disgust tainting her voice in the last part. Then her gaze clouded. "He ... knew about me. A lot. Like how I was sent here to this world and ... other things." She mumbled.

Dean stared at the blonde in surprise. The demon _knew_ about her?

"Well, if he knows that much about you, then maybe he was one who brought you here." Sam responded, startling Dean even more. His younger brother threw out his hands. "I mean, it would make sense, right? With all the powers he has, who knows what else. Rips in universes doesn't seem that far-fetched." He offered reasonably.

The younger hunter's logic struck a nerve in Dean. He snapped his fingers in realization. "Well, that's great. _Dr. Evil_ dropped you a line. You chase after him, you have a lead." The older Winchester agreed, throwing out his hand. "Maybe that ticket out, huh?" He added more optimistically, smirking as he gestured to her.

Why didn't she mention this to them earlier? More importantly, why wasn't she at least slightly happier?

He soon got his answer. " ... He said he wasn't the one who did it." Buffy replied tiredly, her green gaze resigned.

"Yeah, and you just believe every word that comes out of a demon's mouth." Dean remarked scornfully with a smirk, astounded he had actually heard that. It was nearly laugh-worthy.

Buffy shook her head helplessly. She seemed even tinier than usual. "I don't know. But I'm not really sure why'd he'd lie."

At this, the Winchester sobered up. She was actually serious? He eyed her incredulously. "Demons lie!" Dean insisted impatiently, scowling as he threw out his hand.

Sam too looked disapproving. "You can't trust demons, Buffy. Ever. It doesn't end well." The brown-haired hunter told her forcefully.

The small blonde sighed. "Trust me. Everything you're saying, I thought it. Then I thought it again and again and a jillion other times. But it doesn't really make sense!" She fretted, frowning. She raised weary green eyes at them. "If he did do it, he'd tell me. He's the one that got me into this mess and he's the only one that could get me out. That's called leverage. And _then_ he'd probably use it for the proposition-that-will-not be named." The blonde described with certainty. "That's Villain 101. No way he'd skip out on that power play."

Dean stared at Buffy, impressed with her and dubious at the same time. Impressed over Buffy's quick and confident strategic thinking over the inside of a evil bastard's head but dubious because that didn't mean they're were as smart as her. Dean lost count of how many demons he killed just because of their egos and dumb-ass, split-second decisions. Who's to say even Lucifer general Labolas wouldn't have his moments?

Dean could freely admit he was hatefully prejudiced towards demons. As far as he was concerned they were just the gunk he'd wipe off his shoes, but that didn't mean there wasn't a degree of rationality in that irrationality. Every demon made bad moves, regardless of who they were.

Castiel stepped forward. "Labolas is sadistic and manipulative. Everything you're thinking now is what he wants you to think." The trench-coated insisted urgently, his blue gaze meaningful. "Don't fall for his trap. Dean and Sam are right. He's liar, no different than the others."

Buffy didn't respond. She regarded the angel warily, her eyes narrowed.

At last, Dean gave up on choosing a side and just shook her head. "Look. Whether he brought Buffy to our world or not, it doesn't matter. Labolas is still out there. We gotta find a way to put his glorified ass down, one way or the other." The hunter declared firmly, his mind set.

Of course he had no idea how to do that, was acutely aware of the fact him and Sam were just human and didn't know squat about Labolas aside from a brief history lesson and had a bunch of other doubts too complicated to go into. Dean internalized all this somewhere in a dark corner of his mind though. Screw it. He and his little brother were in too deep, but they'd find a way to crawl out of that chasm when they came to it. They always did.

"Cas, are you sure you don't know more about Labolas? Any other powers of his? A weakness maybe?" Sam asked a little anxiously, glancing at his best friend and throwing out his arm.

Regret shone in the angel's gaze. He shook his head. "All I knew of Labolas was a millennia ago. So much of it has already been invalidated just today. I'm not certain anything else I could offer would be useful." Castiel confessed ruefully, sounding disappointed in himself.

Dean waved his hand. "Forget it, Cas. We got enough. The rest we'll just scrounge out." The older Winchester justified simply, keeping his tone nonchalant. He didn't like the set-backs and he was worried as all hell, but that was just the breaks. He didn't want Cas to blame himself.

Sam nodded. "We'll look for Labolas ... _after_ we figure out a way to stop him." His younger brother stated determinedly. His attention drifted back towards Buffy. "Buffy. Piece of advice. Keep your guard up. Labolas didn't kill you and he could've. But he let you live and that had to be for a reason. If he propositioned something toward you ... he might still be keeping that option open." Sam assessed meaningfully. Dean couldn't but notice the blonde slayer tense. "With all those unknown powers, you need to play it extra safe."

The blonde stared at him impassively, then after a moment gave a slight and wry smile. "Like Dean said ... we're _all_ experts here. Nothing left to say to each other that we aren't already thinking." She said, her tone more playful than condescending. "Thanks for the tip."

Buffy sounded sincere enough, but her voice didn't reach her eyes or even her smile. Dean couldn't help but a notice a distance in her eyes, like she was somewhere very far away. The observation caught his attention, peaking his curiosity and some of his natural wariness.

"Anything _else_ you'd like us to know?" Dean tone was nonchalant, but his sharp gaze on her was filled with meaning.

Buffy paused, staring at him steadily. Distance and some other emotion he couldn't name lined the plans of her face, but it told him nothing of what she was thinking. A weak, small smile came to her face. "... I've spent the last four days rooming with the cockroaches and the bed stains in _Motel Life_. Maybe that dusty guest room in the back will bring back my healthy glow." The slayer quipped evasively.

Dean scowled, agitation welling since he knew she was still holding information from them. Didn't she know that wasn't the situation for that? But just as he was about to call her out on it, the slayer already turned around to head upstairs. Her smile fell immediately as she turned away. The hunter faltered, all annoyance gone when he caught a flash of weariness and very real unease in the slayer's eyes.

The Winchester watched her go, further questioning and even concern sweeping over him. Buffy was definitely hiding something from them ... and it wasn't a good thing. _Something more went down in that fight ... a_ lot _more._

* * *

 **A/N:** **The longest chapter in this story so far and with good reason. ;) Finally we're introduced to the Big Bad of the story ... took me long enough, right? :D There wasn't as much interaction in this chapter between our favorite trio, but I thought it made sense. Buffy has her own problems and so do the brothers, pretty major ones. That would naturally compel them to try to separate. They're still kind of a fragile team, at least for now.**

 **Buffy in the Supernaturalverse _without_ Sam and Dean in the equation was such a refreshing angle to write. Buffy, as a character, has faced everything her way forever and it's always worked, but now everything around her is so different and she may actually need to adapt. Her way might not be "the" way anymore. Buffy is essentially being forced to live the way Sam and Dean live, basically trapped in a world she has no comprehension of and I just _love_ exploring that different side of her. A lot of what happened in this chapter had an influence on her emotionally and that's all part of the plan. I hope it all came off very realistic and in character. :)**

 **The Buffy/Castiel interactions in this chapter I absolutely _adored_. Like Destiel, I'd ship Bestiel (Cuffy? Buffstiel? xD) as a hardcore brotp. Buffy and Castiel's relationship is going to be pretty complicated in this story. I think the feel of that is already somewhat showing. Though with Castiel in general, basically _any_ relationship with him is complicated lol. **

**Now the plot and the villain Labolas. Right from the start, I had this huge vision of death and apocalyptic horror for the premise of this fic because we all know that's where Buffy, Dean, and Sam shine best but I wanted to make it different than anything Buffy or the brothers faced. I didn't want it to just be a rehash but at same time keep the heart of the shows. That's where Labolas came in. He's a demon seemingly tied to the Supernaturalverse yet has many mysterious powers none of the others have (even Buffyverse demons) and is so powerful even Buffy can't take him. Right now you don't know _why_ he has it or how his history is supposedly Supernaturalverse, but's he's making waves in a big way. There's a lot of mystery around him and I just can't wait for you guys to see how it all unravels. **

**I hope you liked what you've seen of Labolas so far. Definitely much, _much_ more will be explained of him and his motive/backstory as this story goes. "Labolas" is actually a real demon based in real-life lore. Since this is mainly a Supernatural fic, I'm all about realism and researched. The Labolas in lore definitely inspired me. A lot of his backstory and other little things I sneakily snuck in my writing. If you're curious, you can look it up. ;) **

**This chapter mainly was to establish the villain/delve deeper into Buffy's emotional arc. It didn't have as much Buffy/Dean interaction this time which bums me also as shipper, but their littler moments at the start and end were still interesting. Slowly but surely, guys! Slowly but surely! ;)**

 **I'll try to update this fic as soon as I can. I'm literally _just_ about to graduate high school and things are kinda overwhelming/hectic right now. I'll try hard to manage my time between fanfic-writing and real-life stuff to get it out faster! Thanks for reading~**

 **NEXT CHAPTER:** In the aftermath of the fateful encounter with Labolas, The Slayer and the Winchesters are picking up the pieces. Buffy, overwhelmed and disillusioned from her failure in Illinois, juggles with the situation of finding her way back to her world and her growing enemies in the brothers'. Fearing for his life from Crowley, Kevin calls Sam and Dean for help ...

 _ **Thanks for the 45 favorites, 91 follows, and 33 reviews! I'm always happy you guys are enjoying the story! :)**_


	7. Chapter 7: Lost in Translation

**A/N:** Back with the next update. :) I didn't expect to update this fast, but I had time off just for now and figured it'd best to get it out as fast as possible before I get really busy with all the life and post-graduation stuff. I will never in any way abandon this fic because it is quite literally my favorite out of all my other ones, but I just can't promise I'll have as much free-time anymore to get it out so soon all the time. This chapter is somewhat shorter than last one. I know I'm one of those wordy, detailed writers you either love or hate and I apologize if it tends to ever get too much. xD

Writing this story is definitely been a new experience for me. Not just the fact it's Supernatural, but me creating an original plot while not entirely letting my couple of choice (in this case, Buffy and Dean) completely overrule the plot. My user name is literally me. I'm an intense shipper and I love the idea of Buffy/Dean so much it's too easy to fall into that shipping trap. I'm challenging myself when I write this fic which is what I need if I'm ever gonna be an author or make my own series. That's partially why I'm so obsessed with this story. I'm actually trying to take it seriously to be more like these two great shows and if I can do that, then I know I have author potential. It's as much a test as it is Buffy/Dean shipperness. xD

I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter. Had writers block for certain parts of it, but anyway!

 **Disclaimer: I really wish I did own these shows, but alas I don't. If I could literally buy Dean and Buffy and shove them into each other's worlds with SMG and Jensen Ackles acting it out, I totally would. It'd be a simultaneous cure-all to Buffy's forever doomed romantic relationships and Dean's imbalance between hunting vs. normalcy but y'know, neither of them can ever be happy. **

_**Open to Constructive Criticism/OCC warnings!**_ **:)**

* * *

 _Lost in Translation_

~~Buffy~~

Buffy sat on the floor, back propped up against her bed. She was dressed in dark gray, tight-fitting t-shirt with jeans and her hair in a ponytail. A light brown belt was tied around her waist, matching her boots. Books littered the once-empty Men of Letters guest room. The top of the bed with spread out with several hardcovers, dusty and a few engraved with the Men of Letters symbol. More stacks were lined beside the blonde slayer who had one hardcover opened up and reading intently with narrowed eyes.

 _Supernatural hot spot in the Bermuda Triangle,_ possible _access to portals, no concrete proof of alternate universes blah blah, no way_ out, _blah blah blah blah ... I'm done._ On her last thought, Buffy closed the book and threw it carelessly to her right. It cut right through a stack beside her and collided directly into the edge of the bookshelf, rocking it back and forth precariously a few moments. She didn't even glance at it.

The blonde slayer sat there, her mouth twisted in a sour line. Quietly intense frustration swept up inside her like an inferno, barely held back by her _ver_ _y_ tenuous control. She had taken every book out of Sam and Dean's library _again_ , still hoping like the desperate little girl she was there was anything she had missed.

Surprise, surprise. There _wasn't_.

Three weeks, four days, six hours and counting. That's how long it's been since Buffy was dropped blind in the Winchesters' universe. It's been nearly a whole _month_ since her life officially turned into a freaky, monster-fighting reboot of Doctor Who and still no breach for her. This was _actually_ her life right now.

At least two of those recent nothingness weeks have been spent stewing in her humiliation of losing Labolas. Buffy's cure to that had been burying herself into the Men of Letters files again and locking herself in the bunker, but at this point her "cure" had turned into just another angry stress tumor. Hence the emphasis on _nothingness_.

Classically, the source of her distress tumor actually started somewhere else. Sam and Dean had investigated UIS personally after the Labolas incident and the demon had been nowhere to be found. No one even claimed to _know_ a Dr. Clarke on campus, like he never even existed. Just more nothing for all of them and the nothing that drove Buffy to this unsightly case of pointless book-reading.

Unlike _her_ nothing though, Sam and Dean found better outlets. Sam had figured based on her description of Labolas that he had a liking to education and set up a system to keep tabs on any strange activity in other universities and colleges. He and Dean left periodically to check up on Kevin and supervise the demon tablet situation. Sometimes they were even gone days at time, slaying. Just two functional, occupied hunters trying to make the best of a bad situation.

All the props in the world to Sam and Dean though. They were so well-rounded, so perfect in their handle of a perfectly endless list of things to do. They were so organized, so on top of everything and with a complete understanding of the world around them. Remember when Buffy had that? Remember when that used to be her?

... _Okay_. Now she was just being petty. But considering Sam and Dean were actually out doing _something_ while Buffy was sitting in a room with nothing but musty old books ... could anyone _really_ blame her?

Buffy huffed, glaring at the books around her. Never in her life had she ever read and researched _so much_. You'd think the fact that she, Buffy Summers, actually being _buried_ in research would give her some kind of pay-off. She didn't even have a Willow or a Dawn or a _Giles_ handy. Somehow _that_ didn't warrant her some pesky information?

The blonde began angrily pacing the cluttered room. Her problems, every one unchanged, flooded to the forefront of her mind.

There was Labolas who may or may not be connected to her being brought here. There was Crowley, who kept sending his demon after her. Neither of them she knew where they were or what they wanted from her. But the _best_ part? They weren't even _her_ enemies. They were Dean and Sam's. At least they were _supposed_ to be.

Pure anger coursed through Buffy. She _so_ didn't need this. She had been gone from her world too long already. Who cared about otherworldly demons? Her only problem should be just finding a way home, but god forbid she's allowed a _one_ -problem deal for _one_ minute after ten freaking years of her life—

"Wow. Ground zero alert."

Buffy stopped in her tracks, whirling around.

Dean was walking leisurely into a room, a faintly surprised expression on his face. "I mean ... _two weeks_. Pretty much expected you to be climbing walls, but ..." The hunter broke off with a whistle, shaking his head in amazement.

The blonde slayer scowled at him, instant aversion striking her. Dean was literally the _last_ person she wanted to deal with right now.

Oblivious or more likely just not giving a damn, Dean kept on approaching "The room, all these books ..." He observed, looking around the bedroom. A low chuckle escaped him. "Heh. Looks like something out of _The Shining_." He noted, smirking.

Buffy crossed her arms. "What do you want?" She demanded.

Dean's only reaction to her attitude was a raised eyebrow. " _Someone's_ got cabin fever." He deadpanned, meaningfulness in his voice. The blonde slayer rolled her eyes. The hunter crept closer, a sudden smile on his face. Buffy instinctively tensed, watching every movement through wary eyes. "You know what they say, huh? 'All work and no play makes Buffy a dull girl'."

There was a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, but all the blonde could draw from it was more agitation. "And all _annoy_ and no charm makes _Dean_ a turn-off so I guess we're even." Buffy said sardonically.

The Winchester's smile faltered. He pulled back and shrugged. "Don't knock anything 'till you try it."

Buffy just glowered. She could not _be_ more annoyed. Dean had to be one of the most irritating and persistent men she'd ever met (and this is coming from someone who has _Spike_ in her relationship history).

Two weeks ago, she had been okay with him. The slayer had been perfectly content third-wheeling as a partner to him and Sam. She was even okay actually being his friend, as short-lived a friendship it'd be since she'd be going back to her own universe.

 _That_ was two weeks ago. Now Buffy was tired and overall had a little too much Dean. He had been hitting on her constantly these past couple weeks with his charm at absolute max. It's gotten so bad Buffy was nervous even being alone in the same _room_ with Dean because he always seemed to be mentally undressing her. Her nerves were just so shot.

The slayer literally had no clue where Dean got this overwhelmingly strong attraction to her from. She was still stuck on the Dean she met who would rather be anywhere _but_ around her. Sex seemed to be the _furthest_ thing from his mind. But for whatever reason _now_ ... he just really, _really_ wanted to sleep with her.

Buffy knew exactly the type of guy Dean was though. He only wanted to get in her pants. Just another Parker. And after Parker, she certainly wouldn't be naïve enough to look for something that wasn't there. She was dealing with so many things right now. Getting groiny with a "Parker" wasn't going to be added to that list.

"I'm busy." The blonde bit out tersely, her posture stiff.

The hunter scoffed. "Yeah. _Real_ busy, all that pacing and non-reading." Dean muttered He picked up a large hardcover book on the bed and held it up. "That whole rat-in-the-cage routine is just your _happy_ _dance_." The Winchester added with a mocking smile, holding out the book to her.

The blonde slayer glared at him and the book, then ripped it out of his hands, turning her glare over to the the contents as she opened it. She had already read this one. _Several_ times.

"If I read _one_ more useless book, I'm gonna start tearing out pages." She huffed.

"Well, you got my vote. _Relieve_. Half of this crap we probably won't ever need anyway." Dean answered on the cynical side, gesturing around with an unimpressed look on his face. "But see, Sam ... it'd get his nerd panties all in a bunch. No one wants a PMSing Sammy. Trust me."

Buffy wrestled with her irritation a moment. She frowned down at the book. "It's so _awful_. Messing with your mind ... a bunch of things thrown at you all at once. It like, sucks the life out of you. " She described meaningfully. "... Studying is _evil_." She muttered in deep feeling.

Amusement filled the Winchester's face. "Well, that's why you shove it on Sam. He can fight that evil." Dean responded affectionately.

As crappy as she genuinely felt right now, the joke made Buffy smile a bit. She raised her head. "Too much evil for you?"

The hunter gave a reproving shake of his head. " ... He is a stronger man than I." Dean answered dramatically.

Buffy smiled wider, amused and even a little fond. There was something child-like about Dean. Normally she really hated childishness in men. It was always such a huge turn-off. Older, _mature_ men ... that was her type. Dean's immaturity could be incredibly annoying, but not right now. Right now he was cute.

A little too late she remembered who she was talking about. And even _later_ she realized she was staring at the who a little longer than normal. The past two weeks of Dean's pestering, persistent flirts based on nothing but shallowness and a need to get her in bed roared to life. Not to mention the fact of the situation she was in in _general_.

That reality check changed her mood real fast. Overcome with exasperation, Buffy shook her head and threw the book back on the bed, putting her hands on her hips. "So does you being here have an actual _point_? Or is this just another lame 'get in my pants' thing?" The blonde slayer addressed bluntly. Her expression turned stern. "In which case, _no_."

Dean frowned. He actually looked a bit offended. " ... I'm a _professional."_ He insisted, gesturing to himself.

Buffy couldn't help but roll her eyes. _Professional of skirt-chasers_ _maybe._ If Dean expected her to fall for that, then he had an even bigger ego on him than she thought.

Noticing her expression, the hunter's attitude changed. He narrowed his eyes. "... Actually, I came up here to drop a little advice." The Winchester clarified, a tinge of defensiveness in his voice as he walked around the bed towards her. More seriousness entered his expression. "Come out for _air_."

" _What_?"

"You've been holed up in this hole for two weeks. It's gotta be driving you bonkers by now."

Buffy faltered, struck by the sudden observation. The blonde slayer sighed. "I'm researching for ways _out_ of this place ..." She reminded him, trying to sound firm but mostly coming off tired.

"Yeah, and coming up empty. You tore this whole library up from A to Z. Pretty obvious the Men of Letters don't have what you're looking for." The older hunter replied matter-of-factly.

Buffy looked at him in annoyed weariness. "Pep-stripping advice. Nice renovation there, _Tony Robbins_." She knew Dean was right though. Deep down, she knew he was. With another sigh, she continued. "If I stop looking at the books ..."

"Forget the damn books. They don't have the answer." The Winchester cut her off, firm as he looked at her sternly. "If you keep on looking at a whole lot of nothing, all you're gonna do is ship yourself off to the nuthouse early. You're just gonna go stir-crazy."

Frustration burst in Buffy. "I have nothing else left to _do_!" She snapped. "I didn't find the scythe. You guys don't know any _friendly_ witches. And Labolas? The _one_ thing that might know something about my _'lost-in-translation'_ situation? He disappeared and blank slated _anyone_ back at UIS who even so much as borrowed a _pencil_ from him. So you tell me, Percepto Man! What _exactly_ can I do?" The blonde challenged.

" _Action_!" Dean declared incredulously, like it was obvious. "Keep following trails." He said impatiently, throwing out his arm.

"For a trail, you need an actual _trail_." Buffy retorted.

"So you're just _giving up_?" Dean said in disgust.

That accusation hit a sore spot in the blonde slayer. _"I'm not giving up!"_ Buffy shot back furiously, clenching her fists she glared up at him.

For a moment the two stood there, squaring off against each other with identical gazes of pissed off green. It was a strange sight, given Buffy's diminutive frame against Dean's much larger and muscular one. The anger, however, running through her veins more than made up for what she lacked in size. The fact that anyone, including Dean, could accuse her of being a quitter on her _friends_ and _family_ was such an insult.

Slowly her sudden burst of rage started to recede. Maybe it was because her frustration earlier had already taken up too many calories, but it was too hard to stay mad anymore. Buffy sighed and sat down on the bed. Weariness replaced the anger in her eyes. "I just ... don't know what to do." She murmured.

Dean's attitude changed. He looked almost sympathetic.

"Look ..." He began in exasperation, sitting beside her. "Sam and I ... we got a system. We're looking for Labolas too, okay? He'll show. I'm just saying if you're gonna find the way back, then that means going out and lookin'. Less _Anne Frank_ , more _Katniss_." Dean explained, a serious look in his eyes.

The blonde didn't react. All her worries and fears were festering uncontrolled in the back of her mind. " ... It might not even matter anyway. I find my way back. My homecoming festively involves the death, evil, and mayhem of post-apocalypse splendor. The world already ended." Buffy answered sullenly, stricken with guilt as she imagined it.

Dean looked incredulous. "You're gone a few weeks _tops_ and you're already advertising D-Day?"

"Yup." The slayer confirmed with ease, expression flat. "That's the drill. Apocalypse after apocalypse after apocalypse. Take a quick pause to watch _The Bachelorette_ or get a mani-pedi ... oh look, another apocalypse. So a vacation out of Buffyverse? Mustn't break tradition!" Buffy summed up in bitter sarcasm.

The hunter stared at her uncomprehendingly.

The slayer didn't stop. She pouted. "I knew it. I _knew_ two years was too long for the world to _not_ be ending. All that peace ... it was just waving the red flag right before the floodgates open. They open and ... _voilà_. Here comes something horrifically, monumentally, and _colossally_ apocalyptic." Buffy raved, gesturing with her arms.

Sudden husky chuckling startled the blonde slayer. She looked at Dean sharply, incredulous. Was he _laughing_ at her?

" _What_ is so funny about this?" Buffy demanded.

Dean, still chuckling a little, just shook his head. Under the slayer's judging glare, he tried harder to get hold of himself. "It's just ... you really gotta be a special kind of cynic to think your world has constant TNT strapped to it." The Winchester said in amusement

The blonde stared at him hard. " ... If you knew _half_ of what my life has been like, you wouldn't blame me." Buffy responded, expression meaningful.

"No. No blame. Actually ... heh. I can relate." Dean clarified, his amusement fading towards the end as he became more earnest. "Me and Sam ... we've seen it all. Plagues, demonic takeovers, zombie apocalypse, unkillable bastards hellbent on destroying the _world_. Hell, you ain't scaring me off."

The casual but still matter-of-fact experience in Dean's voice took Buffy by surprise. He seemed entirely unflappable. It wasn't a reaction she was used to on people outside of her inner circle. Then it hit her. Castiel had mentioned a biblical apocalypse to her back in Illinois. Was that why Sam and Dean had accepted the possibility of a apocalypse for their world so calmly? They had seen it all before?

"So ... you lived out a few armageddons yourselves." The slayer said, her tone carefully neutral.

Dean shrugged. "Once or twice. But we stopped them. My brother and me. So believe me when I say I get it. The whole ticking time bomb theory, swimming in worst case scenarios. You walk knee deep through an ugly-ass apocalypse and come out the other side, you get jaded." The hunter acknowledged.

If Buffy had been surprised before, now she was mind-blown. "You saved the _world_?"

"Well, when you put _that_ way ..." Dean deadpanned, reacting to her obvious disbelief.

She couldn't help but be startled. Sam and Dean had no powers yet could claim they not only saved the world, but more than once? Xander couldn't say that and she couldn't think of any other regular person that could. It was so unreal ... yet explained so much. Their notorious reputation in the demon world, an _angel's_ trust in their capabilities, even Dean's very underwhelming initial response to her background.

These brothers were not monster slayers. They were _champions._

The more it sunk in, the more it hit Buffy. She's lived out a supernatural life for ten years and in _none_ of those years had she ever been in this situation: talking with a normal, _human_ guy who could relate to her on facing apocalypses and stopping them without any of the weirdness factor or feeling like she was twenty steps ahead of him. Dean and her were on an even playing field. When had that ever happened to her, _ever_?

It just didn't compute. Normal. Human. Slayer. Powers. Even playing field. It was a very strange feeling, but at the same time ... refreshing. Maybe, in the deepest parts of Buffy's heart, even freeing.

A smile tugged at Buffy's lips. "Look at that. Two end-of-the-world veterans. All the disillusionment and systematically stripped away optimism you can provide." The blonde joked good-naturedly.

"Screw optimism. That's what I say. Who needs it?" Dean said in his own tired humor.

The blonde slayer smiled with just as weary indulgence. "And _now_ when feeling down in the dumps, I know not to go to you. Noted, dated." Buffy quipped, a hint of affection in her voice.

The Winchester studied her contemplatively. A slow smile spread on his face. " ... Oh, you can come to me anytime, sweetheart. I know a thing or two about keeping your mind off things." He responded, his tone playful but eyes meaningful.

The subtle-not-so-subtle innuendo didn't fly over her head. Tension squirmed in Buffy's body, but she kept her pokerface. "We're not talking about pep talks anymore, are we?" She questioned flatly.

Dean's response was a mere smirk. In a manner practically habit at this point, his appreciative gaze wandered all over her until finding it's way back to her face. His eyes found her lips and finally rested there, smirking a little wider.

The signals he was broadcasting could not be any louder.

The blonde squirmed under his attention, but ( _god_ ) was not entirely turned off by it. Suddenly she was acutely conscious of Dean's proximity and how easily the small space between them could be closed. He was dressed in a blood-red overshirt over a black shirt with the jeans and it looked _very_ nice on him. It all terrified Buffy. Her mind was a mushy bundle of nerves, uncertainty, and a certain something _far_ less practical.

It was so stupid. Dean was literally the textbook definition of a bad hook-up. He'd be a mistake even if they lived in the _same_ universe. She should be completely unaffected. But no matter what your brain told you, your body had a mind all of it's own and Buffy did have eyes. Dean was _very_ easy on them and he knew it. Of course he took advantage of it and out of every girl _everywhere_ , it had to be on her. That was the worst part.

The frustration was so real it was sad. Buffy hadn't sex in a very, _very_ long time. For a gal as sexually deprived as her, all you really had to do was just _look_ at Dean or even Sam and you'd have some thoughts. Dean made all that _so_ much worse though by his ruthless flirtations and making himself so open. It was all his fault. He kept putting the idea in her head and she hated him for it.

An alternate universe, a roguishly sexy Dean, and a sexually frustrated Buffy. What a sitcom. Also, a recipe for disaster if there ever _was_ one.

Her irrational inability to move or even speak was apparently a green light for said hunter. Dean smiled more softly, shifting closer to the slayer. Slowly the started to move in, tilting his head as he subtly leaned downward ...

Nothing like a fresh dose of panic to bring you back to Earth.

Buffy immediately recoiled. She got off the bed, practically leaping away from Dean in her haste to stop herself from doing something she'd regret. Dean could only stare uncomprehendingly, as if he wasn't sure what just happened.

Newfound frustration crackled out of Buffy in waves. "This will _not_ be a business and pleasure mix. Strictly _un_ -mixy. Got it, hotshot?" The blonde grumbled, projecting herself to be as resolved and adamant as possible. Temptation? What temptation?

Dean gazed at her incredulously. After a moment, he shook his head. "All hands barred." He reassured in a resigned tone, holding his hands up in surrender.

Buffy was still quietly fuming. Dean was a nice piece of eye-candy, but that's _all_ he was. All he was _allowed_ to be. Too many times in the past had Buffy recklessly listened to her libido and it only led to a road paved with misery and bad decisions. Almost every person she ever slept with, she regretted it. And Dean ... boy, would he be a choice making _that_ list fast.

Dean was a Parker. A more _relatable_ Parker who just so happened to be into killing monsters and stopped a few apocalypses like her, but a Parker nonetheless. She had to keep reminding herself that. No more _Parkers_.

In fierce rebellion against anymore lusty thoughts, the slayer directed the conversation to something more relevant than anything that went on in the past ten minutes. " _All_ I care about is going back home. Everything else? Disappearing in the rearview mirror." The blonde reiterated, glaring at Dean pointedly.

The hunter seemed to sober up at the hint, though the shred of disappointment still lingering in his eyes wasn't something she just missed.

Buffy scowled deeper. _Parker. In every way possible._

"Labolas is MIA and currently my best friend is _nothing_. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of _nothing_." Buffy went on, disgust and frustration coating the word at the end. "I can't afford _nothing,_ okay, Dean? Not in my world. If I find _one_ more dead end ..."

Dean listened to her long-winded rant, his expression now entirely solemn. He watched her intensely from the edge of the bed for a while, appearing deep in his own thoughts. The full change in attitude caught Buffy's attention despite her foul mood. She couldn't help but notice a sudden tenseness about him.

Suddenly the Winchester rose. Hesitation was on his face, which startled Buffy since that wasn't an emotion she'd ever seen on him. "... Dead-end dimensions. Been in that love-boat myself. About five months ago ... I was stuck in a world of weird too." Dean was trying to sound nonchalant, but there was a far-away look in his eyes. He hesitated again. " ... It was a place. A place called Purgatory." He revealed seriously, raising his head and looking her in the eye

Surprise at the confession pierced her. _"Purgatory?"_

Dean gave a terse nod. "It wasn't like here. Fish-out-of-water scheme. _Max_." The older hunter clarified lamely. "I was there ... heh. Way too damn long." Dean mused with a bitter scoff and a shake of his head, his weary amusement melting away into pure weariness. "Some days I never thought I'd leave. I had to fight tooth and nail to get out of there." Underneath the tiredness, there was a note of wistfulness in Dean's voice.

The slayer eyed him curiously. _This guy is just full of surprises ..._ Buffy couldn't help but muse, intrigued.

The Winchester walked over, stopping in front of her. "But I _did_ get out. It was lousy ... and didn't have a snowball's chance in Hell ... but I _did_." His gaze rested on her intently. "Now I don't know much about this _Vulcan_ - _Planet Terra_ crap ... but what I do know is that if there is a way, it's gotta be up to you." Dean told her simply.

Buffy took a moment to absorb this. She found she appreciated the practical honesty. She doubted everything before ... but after Dean's own experience in Purgatory, maybe he wasn't all that wrong? Maybe following Labolas' trails, as dead ended as they currently were, would change and might lead her somewhere?

Dean had managed to surprise her again. His words were serious and truthful, not filled with coddling or saying whatever she needed to hear to get her in bed. It didn't seem like he was saying this hoping for sex. This was literally the same guy that tried to sleep with her just a few minutes ago and here he was being straight with her.

Buffy smiled softly at him. _Maybe this guy_ might _be a little more than your average Parker after all ..._ The blonde slayer considered gratefully. He seemed to care, at least. She still wasn't entirely sure he _wasn't_ a Parker, but maybe ...

Steps alerted the blonde slayer. "Dean!" Sam called from the hallway. The slayer and hunter turned their head as the younger Winchester appeared in the doorway, an urgent look on his face. "Just got a call from Kevin. He gotta meet him right away."

"Did he finally crack open the Gates?" Dean sounded surreptitiously hopeful.

Sam meet his gaze steadily. "He wouldn't say over the phone. Just that it's emergency. He sounded pretty freaked ..."

The worry in Sam's eyes changed his brother's tune. He looked more uneasy while the blonde slayer frowned at Sam, wondering with her own concern what was going on. Buffy and Dean exchanged a worried glance. This was not going to go well.

* * *

~~Dean~~

Dean banged impatiently on the metal door, standing at the entrance to Garth's boat. "Kevin, open up!"

Sam and Buffy were clustered beside him, pensive. For a just a little too long, the three of them had been out here, waiting to be let in. Dean pounded louder. "Hey! _Kevin_!" He yelled more harshly.

Finally there was a sound of a lever being pulled. Kevin peeked out the door skittishly, a huge cast iron skillet raised and a wild look in his eye. Sam jumped in alarm while his older brother instinctively pulled back. "Whoa, whoa. Hey. Just us." He reassured tersely, throwing out his hands peacefully.

Kevin made a wary show of looking around. Dean rolled his eyes, concerned and aggravated. The kid didn't look as sick anymore. Over the past two weeks, they helped him keep up with at least showering and a slight change of diet. He still looked disheveled though, dressed in the same ragged gray sweater and jeans the last time they visited. The bags under his eyes indicated severe lack of sleep and there was a haunted look in them that hadn't quite been there before.

Finally the boy gave a barely perceptible nod. The hunter shook his head. "Geez ..." Dean muttered, starting to go inside.

Before Buffy could even get one foot in the door, Kevin stopped her with his skillet. Dean and Sam paused halfway in the door, glancing back with a frown. "Wait. You. Not you. How do I know you're not just another demon?" The black-haired boy demanded.

The blonde rolled her eyes. "Universe Girl, remember? Slay- _er,_ not a demon _."_ Buffy reminded him meaningfully.

Kevin didn't seem to hear her. " _Crowley_ could've sent you after me. You could be using Sam and Dean to find me and bring me to him." The black-haired prophet said with certainty, suspicion creased across his face.

Dean listened to the conversation with a rapidly growing sense of tiredness. He exchanged a exhausted look with Sam. _Yep. It happened. Kid's finally cracked._

Buffy was unimpressed. " _More_ trust issues and monster-calling." She shook her head in exasperation and put her hand on her hips. "All you boys in _Winchesterworld_ sure know how to roll out the welcoming wagon, don't you?"

"They're everywhere. You could be just like them. It's Crowley. Crowley's behind all _this_." Kevin seemed to be in his own world of worst-case scenarios, nervousness, and wild paranoia.

The blonde slayer raised her eyebrows. "I think _someone_ has watched _Panic Room_ a little too many times." She said with feeling, giving him a stern look.

Kevin raised the skillet again defensively. Dean tensed. Afraid he was about to get violent, he stepped in. "Alright, Kristen Stewart." Dean cut in in deadpan fashion, putting himself between Kevin and Buffy. "Quit the paranoid schizo act. She's no demon."

Sam nodded. "We can vouch for her. Buffy's a friend."

The young boy still looked doubtful, skillet raised and his eyes flicking all over them. Dean took this in with more disapproval. "You can _trust_ her." The Winchester stated seriously, his gaze on him severe.

Kevin hesitated, then finally gave a small nod and stepped to the side to let them pass. Exchanging an indignant look with Sam and Buffy, the hunter shook his head and followed. "Thanks a bunch." Buffy muttered sarcastically from behind Sam, giving the young boy a pointed look as she passed him.

"Alright, so what's going on? What's with the _S.O.S_?" Dean finally was able ask the number one question on his mind, his tone slightly exasperated as he glanced at Kevin.

The boy clutched the handle of the skillet even tighter. "It's _him_." Kevin bit out pensively.

"It's _who_?" Sam's words came out in a sigh, a hint of annoyance in his voice also.

The prophet turned away from the door, staring at them with a new kind of nervousness. " _Crowley_."

That sure got Dean's attention. He stopped, glancing back at the boy. Sam echoed him.

Buffy had screeched to a halt closer to the door, quickly whipping around and staring at the prophet. " _Crowley_?" A hint of anxiety was in her eyes. Dean knew too well why.

"What about Crowley?" The older Winchester pressed.

"He's in my head." Kevin told them desperately, pointing to his head with his free hand.

Dean and Sam stared at him uncomprehendingly. Pure disbelief siphoned through the hunter. _That's his S.O.S?_ Buffy, however, was taking this information much differently than the brothers. She looked alarmed.

"He's ... in your head." Sam repeated incredulously, looking at Dean skeptically and then back at Kevin.

"Can demons here do that?" Buffy asked uneasily.

"No. _No_ , they can't." Dean replied, the last part more meaningful in response to Kevin. "Kevin ... you're dreaming. Crowley is not in your head." The older Winchester told him firmly.

"How can you know that?" The prophet burst out in panic. He was still holding the frying pan, which irritated Dean a little but he ignored it.

"What I know is that we need to up your anxiety meds." The older Winchester responded dryly. More conscious of the fear in the boy's eyes, the hunter sobered again. He considered it a second, then shook his head. "Look, even if Crowley did know where you were, he'd be doing a hell a lot of more than mess with your head." Dean reminded reasonably, throwing out his arm.

"Where's Garth?" Sam suddenly asked, his eyes flitting across the room.

Dean followed his gaze, realizing the lanky hunter was nowhere to be found once again. In their periodic visits these past two weeks, neither him or his brother had run into their friend.

"On a case again or-or the dentist. I don't know! I haven't heard from him!" Kevin answered, his voice suddenly growing high pitched with frustration as if all the questions were overwhelming him.

Dean waved a calming hand at him. "Okay, well, what did want to tell us that you couldn't say on the phone?" The hunter questioned in a deceptively even tone, his irritation growing at the fact the boy was still waving around the frying pan. Finally he couldn't take it. "Would you put the frying pan down, please?!" He snapped, gesturing to it with his hand.

Kevin blinked, then glanced at the frying pan as if he hadn't realized he was still holding in it. He finally set it down on the nearby stove. He paused, glancing up at them. "I figured out how to close the Gates of Hell." He revealed at last wearily.

The older Winchester's eyes widened. He exchanged a surprised glance with Sam and Buffy. "You ..." He began in disbelief, satisfaction and relief bursting in his chest after so many months of nothing. A genuine smile came to his face. "You crazy prophet, you. Nice work!" He praised enthusiastically.

Dean would've hugged the prophet right then and there, but something in Kevin's expression stopped him. He didn't look triumphant or even relieved. There was still that haunted look in his eyes. The hunter's glee quickly got dampened. Buffy and Sam also seemed to realize based on Kevin's mood, it wasn't the time for celebration.

"Somehow putting Hell out of business isn't even worth a small victory dance?" Buffy noted whimsically.

Kevin turned sharply towards them, pausing with a wild expression. "And if Crowley's in my head, he knows!" The black-haired boy told them urgently, anger coloring his voice.

"Okay, he's definitely not your head."

"Okay, he's not in your head, Kevin."

Dean and Sam spoke at the same time, both shaking their head as they tried to calm the disheveled prophet.

Kevin, however, was having one of it. " _Yes_ , he is! I can feel it. I swear, these past couple days Crowley's been driving me up a frickin' wall ... tormenting me. He knows. And if I spill everything about closing the Gates, he'll know that too. I'm not just making this up!"

The older Winchester was flabbergasted. _Wow. I mean, I knew the kid was white-knuckling this demon tablet thing, but this? 'Beautiful Mind' material._ Dean thought in disbelief. He couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor kid. Everything was clearly eating at him. Maybe he and Sam should've checked up just once or twice more these past two weeks. They had been busy hunting, but someone needed to keep Kevin together.

"Okay, Kevin. Just relax. Out of Paranoia Town, back in the land of the sane." Buffy stated in a level tone, moving her arms calmingly. "Say Crowley does know. You're still the one with info and a nice security squad. So instead of doing a reenactment of something out of _Y2K_ , how about you just tell us- _them_ what they need to do?" The blonde reasoned, her words quick and awkward a second when she accidentally said us.

"It's okay, Kevin. Just ... we know you're distressed, alright? But Buffy ... she's not wrong." Sam acknowledged, understanding but no less firm. "Stay with us, alright? What do we need to do about closing the Gates?" His brother questioned intently.

A prickle of satisfaction trickled in Dean. It was nice to see his brother so determined now to get this done.

The prophet hesitated, suspicion and doubt still floating in his eyes. Finally he sighed. "I ... I didn't get much." He admitted reluctantly. He walked over to his wall of notes and pulled a piece of paper off the wall. "But it's spell. Only a few words of Enochian, but ..." He began, handing the piece of paper to Dean.

Dean was pumped. "Oh, here we go." He remarked dramatically, taking the paper and studying the ancient language curiously.

"You have to speak it after you finish each of the three trials." Kevin continued on solemnly.

The older hunter raised his head at this. Sam was frowning. "Trials, like ' _Law & Order'_ trials?" His brother asked in slight bewilderment, Dean handing him the slip of paper as he was speaking.

Kevin shook his head. "More like _Hercules_. The tablet says ..." The black-haired boy trailed off in thought, screwing his face up in memory. " 'Whoever choses to undertake these trials should not fear danger, nor death, nor ...' A word I think means getting your spine ripped out of your mouth for all eternity." He summed up, looking at the brothers uncomfortably.

"Good times."

"Colorful."

Dean and Buffy spoke simultaneously, the brief responses dry and unimpressed. Realizing, the two of them exchanged a surprised glance. The blonde slayer quickly looked away and focused back on Kevin, her awkwardness obvious. Dean stared at her a moment longer, smiling as he found the reaction both amusing and endearing.

"Basically ..." Kevin was continuing on, not reacting to the small moment that passed between Dean and Buffy. "God built a series of tests, and when they're all done, you can slam the gates."

"So ... God wants us to take the SATS?" Sam described a little incredulously.

"Would rather have had that than the _real_ SATS." Buffy remarked casually, shrugging.

Dean clapped his hands together. "All right. Where do we start?" He prompted determinedly, pumped.

He knew without even knowing specifics that was no way this trial thing wouldn't have risk, sending all these demons back home all at once. He didn't really care though. He just cared about getting it done himself. Getting rid of these demonic bastards once and for all.

The prophet had a tired look in his eyes. "That's the part I don't know yet. I'm getting closer to the tablet break, and ... things are messy. And the prophecy from a couple weeks ago? I've been trying to find more on that too. Nothing. I think all that's left of that is just the phrase."

His very rare bout of enthusiasm seemed to vanish as quick as it came. Dean had waited forever to know what exactly they had to do to close the gates. Now he had to wait even longer because of that stupid tablet break? Resentment towards Crowley festered in Dean again. _Better hope our half of the tablet doesn't keep being screwy all the way through._

"The prophecy puzzle piece might not be that big of a biggie. 'Cause it's lookin' like we just found out a slice of it." Buffy said unenthusiastically, grimacing. At Kevin's questioning look, the blonde slayer continued. "We ran into this ... _demon_. Big player, likes to hear himself talk, and a whole _rainbow_ of pain."

Sam and Dean exchanged a serious look. They had a conversation about this before these past couple weeks about figuring out this prophecy. On one day, the three of them had meet up and cracked their skulls together. It became very apparent to the Winchester brothers how easily it was looking to tie Labolas into all this. There wasn't a question anymore. A lot of discomfort and fear, but no doubt.

"His name's Labolas. He has way too many powers. He's as a big as a freak as demons come. And we don't know how to kill him." Dean elaborated reluctantly, apprehension plaguing him as he reflected on it. The hunter shook his head. "The _Legion of Doom_ , all wrapped into one."

"The prophecy said something about a commander leading an army. Like a general." Sam took over solemnly, thoughtfulness in his features. "Labolas used to _be_ Lucifer's general. He led an army of demons. Everything lines up."

Kevin listened and internalized everything they said in one speechless, drawn out moment. He looked between the trio uncomprehendingly. Then a bitter laugh escaped him. "So you're saying I not only have to worry about closing the Gates, but stopping an _unkillable_ demon wanting to destroy the whole world? And he's gonna be after me?" The black-haired boy responded resentfully. He laughed again bitterly. "Wow. This is _actually_ my life."

"If it makes you feel any better, it's also _our_ lives." Buffy offered, forcing a sympathetic smile.

The prophet shook his head several times. "We're screwed." The black-haired boy said with certainty. Kevin started pacing, running one hand through this hair. "God, we're _so_ screwed." He muttered in more angry feeling, panic and distress on his face.

"Hey, come on. We're screwed when we get screwed." Dean admonished, giving him a stern look."We can fix this, okay? Just keep prophetin' it up with that tablet and we'll have Labolas' ass blown away back to pit with the rest of them in no time."

Sam paused, a skeptical look on his face. "Are you sure?"

"What?" The older hunter said incredulously.

His younger brother looked uncomfortable. "Look. You know I'm not usually the negative one ... but we gotta face _facts_ , Dean. We don't know _anything_ about Labolas. And what's keeping him going? It's a hell of lot more than just _our_ kind of demon." Sam pointed out with feeling, serious. "He's not like any demon we ever faced. How do we even know when we shut down Hell, _he's_ gonna go with it?"

Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. "He's a demon, Sam! A glorified, juiced up, diva demon. We close the gates, shut down Hell and eject every son of bitch back in the fire. That's the dessert at the end of the day. Labolas will not be any different." The hunter insisted just as adamantly.

Sam meet his gaze steadily. "Maybe ... or maybe not." The younger hunter replied honestly, shrugging. "We don't know, Dean, and that's the truth. We can't assume every one of our problems are just gonna be solved that easily."

The older Winchester listened with growing aggravation. He swiped his hand over his face. "Okay, you know what? You're right! We don't know! But it's still the only solution we got." Dean acknowledged in frustration, giving his brother a look.

It hit the older hunter a little harder than he wanted to admit considering Sam's scenario. Dean already had enough doubts on how they could possibly beat a demon like this, let alone kill it. Based on Buffy's description, it all looked pretty abysmal. At least with closing the Gates, it was clean. He knew what to do. It was a simple solution to a monumental problem and god knows in their lives they didn't get enough of that. It was literally all he could hold onto right now.

"Either way, you can't just do nothing. Even if the gates doesn't send him away, you won't really know that until you try." Buffy supplied solemnly, looking between the brothers.

Dean nodded agreement, more uneasy than ever but still appreciating Buffy's input.

His attention drifted back to their prophet. Kevin had sunk into the chair by the small kitchen table during the conversation, hunched over. He looked nearly catatonic with a miserable, far away look in his eyes. Concern for the ragged boy swept over the hunter.

"Kevin? You still with us, buddy?" The older Winchester prompted.

The black-haired boy blinked, then slowly turned to look at them. After a long moment, he sighed. "I heard it all, okay? But ..." The prophet trailed away as doubt crowded his expression. "It's just ... if I find out about the trials, Crowley will know too."

Weary annoyance nagged at Dean. "Kevin ... we get it. You've been cooped up in this place ... all you've really been doing is stewing in all your crap." The hunter acknowledged unorthodoxly, trying to be sympathetic. "But look. Crowley is _not_ in your mind, okay? You're just white-knuckling."

"You've just been having nightmares, Kevin. That just means is you need to relax." Sam told him understandingly.

Buffy was eying the young boy sympathetically. "Like I said before. Even if Crowley _does_ know somehow what's going on, we do too and that's what's important." The blonde reminded him

"It's just ..." Kevin trailed away again, a disconcerted look in his eyes. " _Crowley_. It's like he's right there, every time I turn around. I can't focus on the tablet because every time I do, Crowley's breathing down my ass. Like he's about to get me." The black-haired prophet reflected uneasily.

"We're not gonna let that happen." Sam said steadfastly.

Kevin seemed inconsolable. He shook his head. "I can feel him in my head. It's only a matter of time."

Dean finally about had it. "Kevin ... I'm only gonna say this one more time. Crowley is _not_ watching you!" He began impatiently. "I get it. It's been a little too long of the same old same old and you're feeling the pressure. Now this whole thing sucks. But you gotta focus here, man. Keep translating. No more crying the blues." The Winchester told him sharply.

The prophet was silent. "... That's it? It's just _that_ easy." Kevin remarked incredulously. He stood up quickly. "Not too long ago my life was pretty normal. Now I have to deal with this every day and you expect me to what, just shrug it off?" The prophet said angrily. "I want my life to go back to the way it was. I just want it over." Kevin said in frustrated weariness.

"It's not gonna be over!" Dean countered with passion. "It's never gonna _be_ over ... for any of _us._ But we suck it up and we deal with it because that's what we do. Other people got it different, but it's _how_ it is." The Winchester went on matter-of-factly, expression stern. "Y'know what? You were right. We _are_ screwed. Our lives _suck_. Nothing but walking through a steaming pile of crap. But at least out of the crap, we can do a little good." Dean declared strongly.

Every word of brutal honesty seemed to cut down Kevin even more, but it just couldn't be helped. Dean was not the type of person to give someone illusions. He had been where Kevin was many times. The difference between them was he already accepted it. Kevin, him, Sam, even Buffy ... their lives were ruined by the life at some point and it was never going to heal. The least Dean could do was make the most of it and try to stop anyone else from ending up the same way. There was silver lining, maybe not for him but for others.

Sam was staring at his brother's adamant expression, visible discomfort and dismay on his face. Buffy in contrast was stoic, watching the hunter intensely through unreadable eyes.

Kevin was rendered silent again, gazing at the older man with weariness in his eyes. He shook his head. "I can't take it." He mumbled miserably.

Dean softened a bit. "Yes, you can. Just accept it and keep on pushing through. The sooner you get on board with that, the ride's gonna be a whole lot easier. There's a lot of demons out there, killing. Shutting down these gates will save a whole lot of lives. You can't just walk away from that." Dean reminded him meaningfully.

The prophet stared at him hollowly, looking like he didn't know what to say anymore. After a moment or two, the young boy turned away. "I'm gonna ... I'm gonna be in my room." He told them wearily, walking past them to his room. "Let me know when there's a good day."

"Kevin ..." The older Winchester called after him.

The boy just slammed the door shut.

Dean stood there, a quandary of mixed feelings. He hadn't _wanted_ to Kevin to go through this. It wasn't like he didn't know exactly how he felt. That's why though on some level it was so hard for him to sympathize. He _did_ know how that felt, but he moved past that. He was focusing on what _mattered_ which was shutting down Hell and freeing the world of demons. It was too important for Kevin to cast aside just to wallow in self-pity.

"Dean ... don't you think you were being a little hard on Kevin?" Sam suddenly said, looking a little unimpressed.

" _Honesty's_ hard on him?" The older Winchester answered incredulously, turning to his brother. Sam gave him a stern look. The older hunter faltered. "I was just telling him the truth, okay? It's _how_ it is, hate it or love it. He needs to pull himself together." Dean refused to apologize for what he said. The prophet had needed it.

Buffy had her eyes trained on Kevin's door, expression impassive. "Are we really sure Crowley hasn't found him?" She asked quietly.

"It's just Kevin. A life on the run is getting him paranoid." Dean responded with certainty, his arms crossed. Mixed feelings assaulted the Winchester again. "I mean, I get it. He's under a lot of pressure. We just don't have time for that." He admitted reluctantly, shaking his head. "The kid's got a job to do and if he can't do it, then _we_ can't do ours. He needs to get it done."

The blonde slayer looked at him sharply. "But he's still _just_ a kid. He keeps jumping through rings of fire and there's never an intermission. And if he _doesn't_ do it, people pay for it." Buffy retorted with feeling, her gaze intense. "Everyone expects _everything_ from him. To have the weight of the world on your shoulders that like that at that age ... you have _no idea_ what's that like."

The sudden passion and near-disgust Buffy was exhibiting took Dean by surprise. He pulled himself together and meet her eyes steadily. "Hey, you're right. It sucks. No one here wanted this." The hunter relented earnestly. He shook his head. "But we can't change it. It _is_ what it is. Kevin's gotta suck it up."

Buffy said nothing. She just stared at him, a suddenly very tired look in her eyes.

Dean was still baffled. He just couldn't grasp where her odd reaction was coming from. Then it finally hit him. _Right. The whole teen Neo, 'You-are-the-One' thing. She must be putting herself in Kevin's shoes._ He realized.

He knew it. He _knew_ there had been more to it than just being called as a slayer. That she just accepted everything right away and didn't have any demons of her own. Dean had known that, without needing any details or talk about apocalypses, just because she was a hunter. There was some kind of resignation about Buffy. Her life had been a lot more unhappy than she was letting on. He couldn't help but wonder what she had gone through in the past ... but it wasn't Dean's place to know and the chances of Buffy telling him that on her own were close to zero. He respected that.

Sam, surprisingly, looked nearly as weary as Buffy. "Look ... let's just leave Kevin alone for a while. Give him some time to cool off. Maybe when he's cleared his head—"

"I'll talk to him." Buffy interrupted.

Both Winchesters faltered, staring at her.

"Is that really a good idea?" Sam asked incredulously. "I mean, no offense, but Kevin doesn't exactly _know_ you."

The pretty blonde looked at Sam, expression unreadable. After a few moments, she gave a small smile. "Well, good thing I have my charm and a whole lotta charisma. I'll get through to him." Buffy replied, her flippant tone becoming more genuine as she nodded reassuringly.

Sam still looked doubtful, but Dean nodded. "You heard her, Sammy. Girl charm. Can't ever top that." The older Winchester agreed only half-jokingly, hitting his brother playfully on the shoulder. Sam frowned at him in disapproval, but Dean just smirked and turned back to Buffy. "Well, good luck to you and your ... _charms_." The hunter remarked, unable to help the tease.

The flirty innuendo didn't get to Buffy this time. The blonde slayer quickly become serious, pausing as her green gaze met his steadily. " ... I'll take care of him." She swore decisively.

The look in her eyes sobered Dean and he gave a small nod.

Buffy stood in the place a few seconds more, looking between the brothers one more time before turning and walking to Kevin's room.

Joking aside, Dean did understand what Buffy was trying to do. Sam may be right. Kevin didn't know the mysterious blonde other than the fact she was from an alternate universe and likely only trusted her at all because of Sam and Dean. But at the same time, Buffy was the only who could really relate to him. Maybe Kevin having a little talk with her would raise his spirits.

"So ... now what?" Dean thought out loud, throwing out his arms.

Sam sighed. "Maybe we should comb out this place." At his older brother's confused look, the younger hunter clarified. "Kevin's probably wrong about Crowley. He's just really strung out. But we should check anyway." He voiced reasonably. "Who knows. Maybe it might give him a little piece of mind."

Dean mulled that over, pursing his lips. While he was still skeptical, checking for signs of Crowley was a smart precaution. "Yeah, well. Not like we got anything better to do." The Winchester agreed flatly with a shrug, his hands on his hips. "We should go and lay traps."

Dean turned and headed towards the front door, his brother right on his heels.

* * *

~~Buffy~~

The blonde slayer stood outside the small metal door, frowning at it's engraved and mysterious red markings. Probably some kind of protection against demons. Buffy glanced around the boat. Dean and Sam were gone. The two of them had apparently gone outside to check for demons. They'd be back.

The problem was with the brothers gone for now ... that just left her. Her and Kevin.

A minute ago she had been so sure this was the right call. Now all she could do was stare at the door. _I don't really know Kevin ... how's he gonna feel if I just barge in and start waggling a finger at him?_ She wondered uncertainly. Not that she was _trying_ to waggle ... but no matter how you sliced it, she was a stranger to him. No one took well to a stranger trying to tell you how to live your life. She knew that better than most.

 _Maybe I should go._ The slayer thought uncomfortably, her resolve retreating. She didn't want to make the situation worse.

The blonde was two seconds from finding Sam and Dean, but then she remembered. Kevin was in a place right now very few people experienced and that was the responsibility of the whole world. A responsibility you couldn't run from no matter how much you hated it or how much you should instead be living your life. What better person would be to talk to him than her?

Buffy calmed, serious again. _No ... I_ have _to do this. I'm the only person who_ should _do this. He doesn't know me? Well. He's about to._ The slayer reflected determinedly. Not risking another moment overthinking it, the blonde knocked on the door.

 _"Go away, Dean!"_

Kevin's aggravated, weary voice instantly answered through the door before the slayer could even speak. Buffy faltered, dropping her hand with a frown. "Uh ... not Dean. It's Buffy." She corrected awkwardly.

There was a pause. _"... I_ really _don't want to talk right now."_ The prophet said at last, sounding stiffly unenthused.

She hadn't expected a different reaction. A part of her considered respecting that a second, but Buffy pushed it aside. "Okay, I know. Martian, literally from _Venus_ ... but I come in peace, I swear. No hostile takeovers." She insisted, quirky but genuine. "Is it okay if I come in?" She asked politely, trying desperately to not come off as pushy.

Another longer pause. It was at the point Buffy was literally holding her breath. Then there was the sound of a lever and the door opened, revealing Kevin. He looked at her tersely a second, then averted his eyes and quickly retreated back in the room. The blonde cautiously followed.

Not unlike everything else in this boat, Kevin's room was one cluttered and claustrophobia-inducing hazard. A ragged-looking twin bed was squatted in the middle of the room, unmade. Books were thrown in every direction. A table, covered in books, was at his bedside. His only closet was a small bag of clothes. The walls were covered with countless red sigils, a lot of them looking fresh. The only light entering the room came from small windows, each one of them also marked. The place was dark and dank and reminded her eerily of Xander's old basement ... yet somehow worse.

Buffy took the sight with a dim sense of alienation. " ... Wow. Love the ensemble." The slayer finally declared lamely, still looking around. "Dark, clutter-y ... just screams front page for _Coastal Living_."

Kevin was shoving a couple books off the bed, letting them fall carelessly to the ground. "Yeah, well, it's not like I have a housekeeper." The black-haired prophet muttered with just a hint of bitter.

Realizing her inappropriate timing, the blonde slayer waved her hand in peace. "Sorry. Me joking. Just some ... at sea _at sea_ humor." Buffy apologized. Kevin gave her an irritated look despite her earnestness. Too late the slayer realized she slipped in another pun. She shook her head vigorously, waving her hands around. "Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean—I'll stop." The blonde added quickly, shutting up self-consciously.

Kevin stared at her a long moment. " ... You're really weird." He commented bluntly, shaking his head and sitting back down on the bed.

Buffy frowned. " ... You mean weird in a cute way?" She offered hopefully.

The prophet shook his head. "Just weird." He clarified with little inflection, his expression nearly as unresponsive. He was even more focused on putting books back on the table than her.

Buffy pouted. Weird. What a _great_ first impression.

"So you're really from a different universe?" Kevin asked, still organizing the books as he finally looked back at her.

The sudden question startled the blonde slayer. She gave a friendly smile. "Buffyverse. A universe filled with sarcasm, social awkwardness, and inappropriate humor." Buffy quipped glibly, not able to help it. Remembering the situation, she sobered and stepped forward. "But I'm not here to swap stories or compare notes. I'm here because ... I know what you're going through." The slayer finally said genuinely, standing beside the side of the bed.

Kevin scoffed. "Nice try, lady. No one does."

Buffy said nothing, her features twisted in compassion. " ... I _know_ how unfair this all is. The tablet translating, the demon dodging, hiding under a _rock_ this whole time. None of this should've happened to you." The blonde acknowledged feelingly, sitting down slowly beside him on the bed. She eyed him sympathetically. "But the problem with _should'ves_ is that they never happen. _This_ did."

The prophet avoided her eyes. Regrettably, Buffy continued. "You _are_ the only one who can translate this demon tablet. Doing that and helping them close the gates will save a lot of people. Even if you never asked for it ... it's the right thing to do."

"You sound like Dean." Kevin said in frustration.

The blonde paused, weighing her words. " ... Dean was right." Buffy replied softly, her tone even. "I mean, he could've been a little less ... _Dirty Harry_ about it ... but he was _right_." The slayer went on, her mild distaste switching to certainty in the end. "And believe me, I _know_ how much it feels to hate that." She added empathetically.

All the prophet's frustration seemed to melt away, replaced again with misery. "It's just too much. A little over a year ago, I had a normal life. Didn't know about demons or monsters or anything. I was just a kid. Now all of a sudden I'm prophet. I need to keep looking over my shoulder for demons and worry about shutting down something as big as _Hell_ because no one else can. My whole _life_ changed."

Buffy listened to the rant with growing sympathy. Everything Kevin was saying, word for word was practically a mirror version of all the times she had lamented her burdensome slayer status. _It's like looking at me when I first became The Slayer._ She recognized, overwhelmed.

Disappointment hit her hard at the thought. It was so tragic to Buffy that even in another world, there were still kids that weren't allowed to be one—just like she had been.

"Dean and Sam ... they just don't understand." Kevin remarked wearily.

"... No, they don't. And they never will." Buffy responded point-blank, her tone soft and honest. Kevin glanced at her sadly. "They can rationalize and hit you around like a ping-pong ball as much as they want ... but at the end of the day, they still won't know. What it's like. To be chosen." She declared, resonating with experience.

The prophet stared at her incredulously.

Buffy gave a sad, knowing smile. "Back in my day ... I used to have the dull, everyday life too. I didn't have powers. I didn't know about demons. I was just ... normal." She began distantly. "In _my_ world ... slayers get called, and finally my number was up. That's how I became this. The Chosen One. The One destined to fight the forces of darkness. I was younger than you. And after that my life pretty much ended ... and I never got it back." The blonde slayer confessed resignedly, overwhelmed. She shook her head. "And I _hated_ it. I hated it _so much_. I just wanted my old life back. Not responsibility. Not _destiny_. Just one where I wasn't constantly about to be killed or worrying about the fate of the world."

Every word torn out of Buffy was a mirror image of her own weariness. The blonde had accepted this was how her life was long time ago, but reflecting on her angsty early slayer years still hurt. She still couldn't help wishing her life had turned out differently. That she could've just been a regular girl, free of worldwide responsibility and happily ignorant to all the things that go bump in the night. Free of leading an army of slayers, free of losing people she loved or _herself_ ... everything. Buffy still wondered how much easier her life would've been if she had never been called.

Forcing herself out of her suddenly dismal thoughts, the slayer glanced back at Kevin. "So trust me when I say I get it ... more than Sam and Dean do." She finished lamely, though no less earnest.

" ... Wow. I had no idea." The young boy finally uttered, looking stunned. "That might be worse ... honestly. I'm sorry." Kevin answered with his own sympathy. The slayer avoided his eyes, discomfort shooting through her. "But you're still _here_. You've been dealing with stuff like this for years, and you still are. _How?_ How can you still do it?" He pressed desperately.

 _That's a good question._ Buffy thought tiredly. She recalled all the periods in her life she had bad day after bad day that all eventually blurred together in one ugly nightmare. Too many times she asked herself how she could do it. On some of her worst days, she didn't have an answer. But deep down, under all the pain and bad luck ... she did know. Despite everything.

"Because ... there are things more important than me. People. People that need me. And just because I didn't get the luck of the draw doesn't mean I should let the same thing happen to them." Buffy answered sincerely. "Believe me, it's not my idea of a 401k or a Hail Mary, but it's ... what I have to do." She justified seriously.

Kevin looked amazed. After a few moments, he lowered his eyes. A look of guilt and sadness entered his face. "I don't know how to be like that ..." He seemed lost.

"Takes time. A lot of practice." The blonde slayer reassured, giving him a wry smile even as more pity spilled inside her. It wasn't easy to have that kind of mindset. Sometimes even she forgot it, but at the end of the day ... she knew it was the right thing to do and that's what mattered.

Kevin still didn't look too sure.

Buffy paused and her expression became harder. The similarities between the burden of a prophet and a slayer roared to life. "I'm not gonna say it gets easier because it doesn't. You can be surrounded by people and still feel completely alone. But you're _not_ alone. Even if they can't understand it ... they'll still be there for you."

* * *

~~Dean~~

Dean was knelt down on one knee out on the docks, just a short ways away from the safeboat with an angry grimace on his face. Sam was looming over him from behind. Intense frustration and disbelie was coursing through the older hunter. Stiffly, he moved his arm and swiped his hand. It instantly collected the one yellowy, powdery substance he had not been _counting_ on not seeing today.

"Son of a bitch." The Winchester said in disgust, rubbing his fingers together.

"Another demon sign. That makes three." His little brother identified tersely. As Dean got to his feet, the younger hunter was shaking his head. "We were wrong, Dean. They're close." Sam expressed worriedly, his eyes darting around as if he expected demons to leap at them any minute.

To say Dean was pissed and disappointed was an understatement. He had been so certain Kevin was wrong. That the stress was just getting to him and he was only being paranoid. As soon as he and his brother started actively searching the place their simple routine check-up had gone to Hell so fast it was enough to make their heads spin. Copious tracks of sulfur surrounded the grounds. The only thing that made angrier than the fact it was there was that he and Sam missed it.

Frustrated and wired, the older hunter thought fast. "We gotta get Kevin out of here. Relocate him somewhere else, stat."

Sam nodded quickly, moving at once with his brother as they started rushing towards the prophet's location. The Winchesters hadn't gone more than a few feet when something stopped both of them dead in their tracks.

"Hello, boys."

Dean and Sam whipped around, immediately on the defensive. None other than Crowley, as collected and suave as ever, finally stood before them dressed in his black suit and his hands in his pockets with his plastered on condescending smirk.

 _"Crowley_." Sam growled in recognition.

Both brothers were practically seething hatred towards the demon, but the King of Hell only seemed to find it amusing. "Been some time." He remarked in deceptive casualness.

"Not long enough, you dick." Dean countered, his mouth set in a hard line as he glared at him.

"Oh, I missed you too." Crowley played off mockingly, his eyes surveying them. "I heard you Winchesters have been up to mischief, capturing demons and wheedling information out of them on little old me. Unseemly, I must say. You know it's always better to keep the mystery." The crossroads demons remarked evenly.

"Well, now you're here. So let's just the cut the crap and get to the part where we kill you." The older Winchester taunted, drawing his demon knife out of his canvas jacket as Sam pulled the angel blade out of his.

Crowley raised his hand, reflexively moving back as both brothers advanced. "Now, now boys. Let's not to be so eager." He interrupted pointedly. "You forget I still have the other half of the _Demon_ Tablet. Kill me and you'll never know where I left it." The crossroads demon reminded them. "How is Kevin, by the way? I miss our little nights together." He snarked suavely, sudden meaning entering his expression.

Dean was tense, stomaching the urge to nervously glance back at the safeboat. This was not good. He would take any location for a battle, anything but this. Crowley was too damn close to the kid.

Hiding his worries, the Winchester faced down Crowley with a hard look. "You're not getting Kevin. And we might not be able to kill you _yet_ ... but we can sure as hell make you wish we did." Dean threatened harshly, raising his knife meaningfully.

The King of Hell looked amused. "Please. There's nothing you could do to me that I don't do to myself every Friday night." Crowley responded, dark humor and meaning in his eyes that very much revolted Dean.

"You're not gonna win, Crowley. We're getting that other half of the tablet, and we're keeping Kevin." Sam declared with confidence. His gaze on him became more intense. "Kinda funny, you coming out of hiding now of all a sudden. Got tired of sending your demon minions after us?"

A slight shift in Crowley's flippant look. "... Change of scenery. I was getting bored slumming it with the background dancers." The King of Hell answered smoothly, smirk still in place.

"Well, we're honored." Dean said sarcastically, a contemptuous smirk on his face. "How's Hell, by the way? Y'know, after that whole massacre back in Michigan? You got a _Rebel Without a Cause_ on your hands and Hell's been going straight to hell. Tough times, huh?"

Sam nodded just as insincerely. "Must be hard ... finding _Lucifer's crypts_." He added meaningfully.

Crowley's cool demeanor cracked, his smirk faltering just a bit as surprise and displeasure flitted over his face. He paused. "... Well. Your boys certainly have been busy." He remarked in forced pleasantries. "Careful where you keep letting those lumberjack boots go. Once of these days you might wake up in a _gutter_ with your intestines ripped out." The crossroads demon warned with a tinge of anger, looking at the boys meaningfully.

Dean forced a smirk. "Been there, done that. Didn't stop me."

"Why do you want the crypts, Crowley?" Sam demanded.

The demon's briefly disrupted suave returned. He watched Sam in amusement. "Sorry, Moose. I do like the vague disclaimer. Now let's go back to Kevin, shall we?" The King of Hell deflected with ease. "I know you two have been the little prophet's _Team Mom_ ... keeping him preserved, washing his tighty whiteys and making his eggs sunny side up. But now ... Daddy's home." Crowley remarked drolly. His expression became more serious. "You _stole_ him from me. I intend to get him back. Him ... and the tablet." He said in no uncertain terms.

"No way in hell." Dean refused, his tone harsh and final as he stared down Crowley.

" _Really_ , boys? Must we turn this into a custody battle?" The crossroads demon reacted glibly, throwing out his hands.

"You're not getting him." Sam reiterated just as threateningly.

Crowley surveyed them with an unimpressed expression. "So dramatic." He said drily. In the face of the brother's unamused expressions, he sighed and straightened his posture. "Well. Back to _Short Round_. I am taking him, one way or another. And according to what a little birdie told me ... the boy is _right in_ _here_." The King of Hell went on, drawing out the last three words as he pointed to the Garth's safe-boat.

Dean's worst fear was confirmed. Doing his utmost to show Crowley nothing but his disgust and distain of him, he kept his expression controlled. "Well then, birdie told you wrong. Kevin's nowhere here." Dean lied with confidence.

"Don't con a con artist, Dean. I know you've been holing the boy up in this squalor. My sources were very ... accurate." The demon stated meaningfully.

Giving up the charade, Dean glared. "Go screw yourself, Crowley. You ain't getting anywhere near Kevin without going through me and Sam." The Winchester insisted adamantly. "And even if you do? Still _S.O.L_. The whole boat is demon-proofed."

"The entire boat, made of iron. Good luck getting in." Sam informed him contemptuously.

Crowley remained unaffected. "Yes, I'm aware. I'm also sure you two set traps around this place. " The King of Hell acknowledged with ease, nodding his head. "I was thinking of a more ... _unorthodox_ approach." He said vaguely, snapping his fingers.

Before either Dean or Sam had a chance to question the cryptic remark, demons slithered out from behind a couple cars. Tension and alarm shot up in the older Winchester as they flanked Crowley, black-eyed and eager and five in total.

Dean took in the sight with growing apprehension. Five were too many, even between him and Sam. His hunter instinct was screaming at him just take down a few, trap the others, then take Kevin and skedaddle as far away as possible. The only trick to that plan was ... they needed to survive first.

Crowley smirked. "Have at it, kids."

On command, his demon minions charged the brothers. Dean and Sam exchanged a quick bracing glance, then threw caution to the wind, armed their weapons and met the influx of demons head-on.

* * *

~~Buffy~~

Buffy left Kevin alone in his room. The boy seemed to calm down some after detailing her own life experiences. She couldn't offer him false comfort—that the "chosen one" feeling will ever stop being lonely—but what she did was remind him of the right thing. She knew that was still a lot to ask of someone his age and she in no way expected him to just _understand_ it ... but she felt like she had gotten somewhere with him.

 _Your welcome, Dean. Sam._ What _would you do without me?_ The blonde thought wryly.

Buffy was still a little exasperated at Dean's gung-ho approach to Kevin. It was big on the straightforward, soul-crushing reality checks which was fine, but he cut all niceties known to man. At least with her she was more sympathetic and tried to soften the blow which clearly worked better. Maybe there was hope for her counseling skills after all?

Buffy turned and started to leave the safe-boat to help Sam and Dean investigate the area. By the time she was halfway to the exit, something at the edge of her vision distracted her. The small blonde stopped slowly and glanced at the window with a frown. She walked over to it, peering outside to the docks.

The first thing she saw was Sam and Dean. The two brothers were locked in a fight with at least six individuals that appeared human, swarming over them. One of them that stood apart was an older man, dressed in all black wearing an expensive-looking suit with an equally expensive-looking coat. He was short ways away, seemingly detached from the brawl and just watching as a spectator.

Alarm at the sudden sight ignited in Buffy. When Dean beat back a man, she saw the shine of a knife in his hand as he stabbed the person. A second later she caught a long blade in Sam's as he battled beside him. It was the demon knife and the angel blade. _They're fighting demons!_

A flurry of racing thoughts speeded through her mind. _They're outnumbered. They can't fight that many. And Kevin? Kevin's in trouble._ Buffy recognized in a burst of worry, self-awareness crashing down on her painfully.

Mindset slipping to _'Slayer Mode'_ like a light switch, Buffy rushed over to get her angel blade. Snatching it off the kitchen table where she had left it, the slayer walked determinedly towards Kevin's door. "Kevin! Open up! _Now_!" She demanded impatiently, banging on the door loudly with her palm. It was so tempting to just rip the door off.

Sound of a lever. "What the hell?" Kevin exclaimed, opening the door with a startled look on his face.

The slayer's expression was grave. "Demons." She responded curtly.

Horrified dismay filled the prophet's face. "I knew it. I knew Crowley was on my ass!" The black-haired boy answered in terrified frustration. He was shaking his head vigorously. "I _told_ you guys. I told you. He was in my head!" He repeated near-hysterically.

Impatience funneled through Buffy. "Wait later for the _'I told you so's_." The small slayer told him sternly, restlessness surging through her as she worried for Sam and Dean. "Sam and Dean are fending them off. I'm joining the party. None of them are gonna lay a _hand_ on you." She told him with conviction.

Kevin was still unhinged. "I need to get outta here. Move out. Find another place."

The blonde was in no mood for paranoia. "You are not going _anywhere_ until the Hell squad gets cleared out. Pack up as much demon defenses as you can, but that's _all_. Stay inside this boat and don't even _think_ about making a run for it." Buffy ordered with absolute authority.

"But what if—" The prophet was arguing, fear and uncertainty on his face.

"Just do what I say, okay?!" The blonde insisted in frustration. Running on a deadline, Buffy grabbed the outside lever. "Stay _inside_." She reiterated warningly. She met the bedraggled prophet's eyes with one more authoritative stare before closing the metal door herself.

The blonde slayer bolted through the safe-boat out the front door, angel blade in hand and heading for the docks. Concern for the two brothers she was beginning to consider her friends clouded her mind. Six demons were too much for people without powers, no matter how experienced they were. They were going to get killed.

Buffy halted as the docks came into view. Sam was on the ground in a chokehold, cornered by two demons while Dean had been thrown by another one, sliding across the floor. The blonde slayer headed for Sam first. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the man in the suit's surprised expression before she embedded the angel blade right in the demon choking Sam. Not even pausing, she turned on the other one as that demon fell, backhanding it across the face and kicking it away with all her strength.

Sam blinked up at her, his breathing ragged and looking a little dazed. Buffy held out her hand to tall hunter, and he accepted it. "No demons?" She reminded him flatly as she helped pull him to his feet.

The Winchester tilted his head awkwardly. " ... Make a mistake once or twice." He answered lamely, still catching his breath.

The blonde slayer turned her head sharply, seeing the other demon already on her feet and with another one with her. Buffy grimaced. "Let's hope you live long enough to make more." The slayer remarked dryly but with feeling.

Sam and her split. The younger Winchester had his vigor back, his angel blade in hand and scoring punches on this demon even as the superiorly-powered creature landed a few himself. Dean, looking a little more bruised before, had managed to find his footing and was doggedly matching the demon as he kept trying to stab it. Buffy was taking on the third demon. The ranks had cut down almost to half and with her added to fight—excluding the Winchesters' absence of powers—the fight was more even.

The blonde slayer and demon battled. She collided with demon in a clean show of punches, kicks, and slashes with the blade. The demon retaliated, it's speed and grace not quite at the same level which made it easier for her to dodge it's attacks.

However, a part of Buffy's mind couldn't help but be divided. Sam and Dean were still getting more blows on them than her, fueling her fear of them getting seriously hurt. She heard Dean groan, snapping her attention to him. The demon he was fighting punched him in the stomach, knocking the breath out of him as it tried to stab him ...

That one quick, concerned glance was all it took for the slayer to slip. The demon hit her with a particularly crushing punch, then unleashed another and another. Pain radiated on her face and stomach. As soon as Buffy registered the attack, the demon tripped her and she fell on her back to the ground. The demon gleefully closed in on her, it's hands out to choke her.

Anger surged through Buffy. "Did I forget to say break a leg?" She asked glibly. Before it registered, the small slayer kicked the demon in the right lower leg harshly with pinpoint precision. She heard and a felt a bone breaking just before the demon screamed, falling on one knee. "Hope that made up for it." Buffy deadpanned.

Determined to make up for her slip-up, the small blonde continued her assault mercilessly. She kicked the demon in the face as he fell, then elbowed him with her whole arm. The last blow was especially backed with slayer strength, knocking him straight on his back with a pained groan before he actually fell unconscious.

In the safe zone for now, Buffy spared a quick survey of the battle. She immediately sought out Dean and as soon she had eyes on him, she was greeted with the hunter gripping the demon's arm with one hand while he stabbed the creature right into the chest. Surprise washed over the blonde slayer as light flickered and it died. Dean withdrew his knife, then immediately rushed to help his brother.

Relief washed over the Buffy. At the same time though she was startled. Dean had been so close to death in that second she stole, yet somehow in her quick blur of fight with her own demon the Winchester had gained the advantage without a single stab wound. He was bruised and sore with probably a few internal injuries and broken bones, but still had enough energy to defend himself and run to Sam who actually looked like to be turning the battle in his favor even without him. These brothers were resilient.

"Well, well, well. What do my eyes spy?" A suave, light voice with a British accent filtered suddenly into the slayer's ears.

Buffy whipped around. It was the strange man in the dark clothes she had seen earlier, walking towards her with exaggerated casualness. "A demon's porch lights snuffed out by a itty, bitty teacup hunter ..." The man mused, stopping a short ways from her as he finished. She smirked. "You must be the supernatural _Fergie_ I've heard so much about."

The slayer stared. Heavy realization began settling on her shoulders. " ... You're Crowley. The King of Hell."

"And you're the new kid on the block. A pleasure." Crowley responded in deceptive geniality. "Tragic to see you in league with the Winchesters. Their fanclub should really put it's death rate on the warning label." He stated, saying it less like a threat and more like a fact.

Buffy glared at the demon. "You're the one that's been sending all those _demons_ after me. Having them follow me around _everywhere_ I go ..." The blonde slayer mentioned more angrily.

"Nothing personal. Just gathering all my duckies in a row." The British demon brushed off in infuriating disregard. He tilted his head, studying her. "And you are quite the special duck. Scientifically fascinating, in fact. Your torrid affair with the Winchesters alone ... questions, questions, questions." Crowley said meaningfully, morbid curiosity in his eyes.

"Denied, denied, denied." The small blonde mocked. She threw out her arms. "You want scientifically fascinating? Go dissect a frog. Binge-watch _Mythbusters_. Or y'know what, even visit the _World's Largest Rubber-band Ball_. I am _not_ going to audition to be your personal carnie." Buffy rejected, her sarcasm ending with disgust.

The King of Hell's eyebrows raised slightly at the unexpected wordplay. "Ooh, sassy backtalk." He commented in slight surprise. A twisted smirk came to his face. "How'd you know that's what makes my nethers quiver?" He responded teasingly.

"You're _disgusting_." Buffy retorted hatefully, revolted. Looking back on Dean's disdainful description on the King of Hell's personality a couple weeks ago, she realized he had been right. Every time he opened his mouth, you really _did_ want to stab in the face.

"It's a gift." The King remarked with a shrug. He started circling her, maximizing the blonde slayer's guardedness. "Now to start off my twenty questions ... you wouldn't by any chance know anything about _Operation 666_ in Michigan, would you?" He interrogated, his tone casual but his expression meaningful.

 _He means Labolas' massacre of those demons._ The slayer realized warily. Was he trying to connect her to it? She keep her expression unconcerned. "You mean other than fact your demons reek incompetence and can't even tie their own shoes?" Buffy questioned innocently.

Crowley stopped, his expression becoming more intent. "So you weren't behind it. All those demons' deaths ..."

"Regrettably ... not my handiwork." The slayer admitted mockingly. She uncrossed her arms. "If _that's_ your reason for searching high and low for me, then maybe you oughta lay off. I'm not the one that did it." Buffy told him sharply.

The King of Hell studied her intensely. " ... About a quarter of the reason." He answered smoothly. "The rest is _all about you_ , Golden Girl. Your powers, working with the Winchester Wonders ... you disturbed the waters and it's making waves. You're a _rockstar_." Crowley explained with feeling. He smirked. "So please. Indulge an old demon's curiosity. Who are you? _What_ are you?"

The questions aggravated Buffy on a deep, offensive level. "Bored, annoyed, and just bordering on violent. Twenty questions over or I _swear_ , I am going to resolve _two_ of those." Catching her own words, she frowned. "Actually ... I think I might anyway." Buffy declared, casually raising the blade.

"More attitude and rejoinders. Keep it up, Sunshine. You may just become one of my favorites." Crowley remarked in amused feeling, showing no visible reaction to her "ready-to-stab" posture.

Annoyance swept over Buffy. God, she already hated this demon _so much_. He just never shut up! "And I can promise you from the bottom of my heart ... you will _never_ be one of my mine." The blonde slayer snarked, her mock earnestness ending in disdainful finality.

Eager to finally let loose the growing anger she felt the minute she saw this demon, Buffy charged. Even though she was worried and still unsure about Crowley's status, he had outstandingly pissed her off so much none of that mattered anymore. Somehow it felt like killing this creep solved all her problems ... or was at least some kind of therapy.

Crowley dodged several swings of her blade, stepping back on the last one as she just barely missed his throat. The blonde slayer glowered, the blade gripped in both hands as she held it up close beside her head. Ready to attack again.

The King of Hell's expression was lit with surprise. "Grace and elegance of a ballerina." The demon observed flatly. "I'd really like to get to know you. Bond over a little Stockholm Syndrome. I'll even bake cookies."

Pure frustration coursed through Buffy. Suddenly every one of her demons of late (literal and figurative) flooded to the surface. "Right. _Everybody's_ gotta have a piece of Buffy. Love me or hate me, I'm still _'it'_ girl. Someone finally leaving me _alone_? Gasp! Blasphemy. God, it doesn't matter _where_ I am, does it?" The blonde unleashed incredulously, swinging angrily at him again with the blade. "Wouldn't it be a nice change if someone was just _indifferent_ to me? Like I'm a non-person? Gosh, wouldn't that just be _nifty_?" Buffy raved as she attacked, throwing out a punch between blade strokes.

Crowley caught her arm with the blade. "Talk to your therapist." The King of Hell deadpanned. "... _Buffy_ , is it? Beautiful name ... for a Cocker Spaniel."

The blonde slayer countered with a charged left hook. "I _don't_." The slayer punched Crowley angrily again in the face. " _Need_." She wrenched her arm out of his grip, pulling back the blade as she kicked him in leg. He stumbled slightly backwards. " _A_." Buffy sailed the blade towards the King. " _Therapist_." She ground out the last word, her last slash arc missing his chest by a whisker.

Demon and slayer squared off, leaping back from each other. Tension was crackling between them. Disgust was strong in Buffy as she glared balefully at him, her angel blade raised in the face of his seemingly painted on smirk.

 _"Crowley!"_

Dean was running towards them. Sam had his angel blade embedded in the demon she had knocked unconscious earlier, pulling it out immediately and followed right after his brother determinedly. Crowley's smirk widened, amusement and even more smugness radiating off him.

Suddenly the blonde faltered. A strong, pungent and distinguishable smell filled her nostrils. Buffy turned her head sharply to where it was coming from, alarmed. Clouds of smoke were seeping out of Kevin's safe-boat. Upon closer inspection, she could see a sign of harsh and unnatural light through the window.

"Kevin ..." The blonde slayer said in worried realization.

Dean and Sam screeched to halt as soon as she uttered the word. Both brother's attention flew to the boat, disbelief and speechless horror etched on their faces as they connected the same dots as she did.

The King of Hell stood there, pretending not to notice what they were staring at it. After a beat, he followed their gaze. "Ah, yes. That." The crossroads demon finally said in mock realization, nodding. He looked back at them. "Molotov cocktail. Messy, but effective. I'm trying new flavors." Crowley explained in chilling nonchalance. He smiled slowly. "To drive out the rabbit out of the burrow ... you need to _flush_ it."

Sam's expression was hard. "You had a demon in waiting to torch the place. The rest of them were a diversion."

"You _sick_ bastard." Dean retorted with feeling, shaking his head with hate and disgust.

Both Winchester brothers charged, Dean towards Crowley and Sam in the direction to the boat. The King of Hell made a gesture with his hand and suddenly Sam went flying, colliding straight back in the opposite way and landing harshly on the ground. Shock at the display at the telekinesis shot through Buffy just as the crossroads demon caught Dean's arm, the knife looking to be aimed directly at his face.

"Buffy! Go! Go save Kevin!" Dean yelled to her urgently.

The blonde slayer did not need to be told twice. Buffy nodded, immediately breaking away and taking off in a run. She cut through the docks and pathways so fast it was like her feet was hardly touching the ground. The doorway to the safe-boat came in sight, unoccupied and with no other demons around. The blonde kicked at the door with all her strength, breaking it's restraints and moving inside without any hesitation.

Buffy stood inside, surveying the boat frantically. A small but gradually building fire stood directly in the middle of the boat, angled in perfect sync with a single broken window to the right. Signs of a bottle that used to be Molotov cocktail shone in the flames. There was no sign of Kevin.

The blonde slayer bolted towards the door, ignoring the fire and smoke inhalation. The second she stood in front of the door, it suddenly flung open. A splash of water hit her in the face, making her rear back as it sprinkled her clothing. "Leave me the hell alone, you black-eyed freaks!" A shrill angry voice sounded.

Kevin was standing with holy water in one hand and half of the tablet nestled under his arm, anger and fear in his eyes. Recognition filled his face as he took in Buffy, then he looked past her and saw increasingly growing fire. His eyes widened in shocked alarm. "Oh, my god." He uttered in horror.

"I'm getting you out of here." The blonde told him assertively. Before the teenager could speak or possibly panic, Buffy grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room, ushering him slightly behind her. She surveyed the boat critically for means of escape. "I'm not gonna let Crowley take you."

"You mean _Crowley_ did this?!" The prophet exclaimed incredulously.

The slayer didn't respond, too busy searching the boat, but the name dropping apparently brought a fresh wave of energy to the prophet. He moved to break away from her, heading towards the front door.

 _"No!"_ Buffy snapped urgently, immediately grabbing his arm and forcefully pulling him back. "Not _that_ way."

Kevin stared at her in disbelief. "Are you crazy? There's no fire! It's clear! We have to get out!" He argued desperately, futilely struggling against her slayer-powered grip.

Buffy casted a nervous glance towards the fire, acutely aware it was starting to spread. "Not the entrance. He'll-he'll _find_ you! That's exactly where he expects you to be!" The slayer told him in a hurried, urgent tone. She looked around wildly for to a different exit and caught a particularly large window just above the dining table. "Window. Window works." She muttered, pulling Kevin along and maneuvering them around the fire.

Buffy immediately punched the window, thrusting her whole arm through and shattering the glass on impact. As soon as the blonde glanced back at Kevin, sparks flew in the air. The fire grew in a sudden burst, catching a nearby carpet and hitting in a straight line right towards them. Desperate and out of options, the blonde grabbed the prophet by the shirt. Kevin only had time to gasp in surprise before she lifted him and tossed him up on the table, climbing herself a second before the fire tore a path exactly where they had been standing.

"Go." The blonde slayer told him tersely, crouched just behind the boy and glancing at him briefly before looking back at the fire. The window was larger than the other windows in this place, but it wasn't built for two people at once. It was a tight squeeze even for _one_.

Kevin looked a little thrown. "B-but there's water out there ..." He pointed out anxiously. His eyes went from the window to the tablet and then to her in a one quick moment.

Every second being just another second waiting for the table to catch fire or collapse completely under their weight, the small slayer was as far removed from wasting any of their sweet time as possible. Buffy looked at him sharply. "Then I guess we're going for a swim." She deadpanned. She yanked the half of the tablet out of his arm, securing it under hers with a pointed look to put his silent question to rest.

The prophet looked uneasy, but common sense won over and he turned to the window. As soon as his hands grabbed the sides, more sparking drew her attention. The blonde snapped her head back as fire caught one of the table's legs. Just as Kevin was halfway out the window, the small blonde did the rest for him. She urgently shoved him, hearing his startled yelp before diving out the window herself.

With the half-tablet clutched tightly to her side, Buffy dimly registered the sound of intense sparks as the table went up entirely in flames just before her and the prophet hit water.

* * *

~~Dean~~

The Winchester glared feelingly into Crowley's eyes, his knife just a few inches away from the crossroad demon's face. He resisted the King's grip on his both his arms, struggling as his anxious mind raced to find a way out of this. Sam had been flung somewhere, either dazed and unconscious. Kevin was getting chased out of his own safehouse like some kind of animal and might not even make it out and now Buffy had been thrown in that fire as well. Everyone was in danger.

Dean's worries fueled his anger and he resisted the demon more determinedly, ignoring the pain as he fought to break free and stab him. There was a simple solution: kill Crowley, quick and fast.

As if sensing his resolve, Crowley smirked even more fully. "Oh, Dean. Already with the evil eye and playing with the pointy, pointy knife ..." The King of Hell mocked, still holding him away. "I guess my half of the tablet might as well just be one of those cheap trinkets you could buy at a gift shop."

"What about Kevin?" Dean countered sharply, unfazed. "All that time you spent chasing him around, needing to bring him in alive. Now, _now_ you're risking roasting his hide?" The Winchester pressed incredulously. It was so sudden of Crowley. There definitely was a desperate feel on the King that hadn't quite been there before.

"Fret not. I made sure the entrance would be last to go. And Kevin, he is a smart boy. Bursting with survival instinct." Crowley reasoned in complete nonchalant disregard.

His callousness infuriated Dean. "He could still _die_!"

The King of Hell paused, his expression faltering just a bit. Feeling his grip loosen, Dean took the chance and headed in closing the distance between his knife and Crowley's face. In a burst of movement, Crowley got back his grip back and twisted his arm away, punching him across the face. Pain stung the hunter, but he immediately countered with a punch of his own. Crowley pushed him away forcefully and the two separated. Dean stumbled to keep his footing, glaring at the demon.

Crowley looked less amused than before. "Well, it's a good thing he has you two clods. The _Rescue Rangers,_ _Chip_ and _Dale_. That, and _Gadget_." The King of Hell responded in absolute coolness. "Nice girl, by the way. A bit of an ugly duckling. You Winchesters ... always one to let in strays." He added off-handedly.

"Dean!"

Sam was running over towards the brawl, angel blade in hand and looking largely unharmed. Relief to see his brother on his feet coursed through the older hunter. "Sorry, boys ..." Crowley began, just as Sam reached Dean's side. "Have an appointment with a prophet." He stated smoothly.

Dean scowled defiantly at the words. Simultaneously, he and Sam rushed towards the demon. Just as the two of them were within stabbing distance, Crowley smirked and snapped his fingers. Their blades suddenly slashed through air. Crowley had disappeared.

Fury rushed inside the older Winchester. " _Crowley_ , _you son of a bitch_!" Dean shouted as he looked to the sky, his voice harsh with outrage.

Sam grabbed his brother's shoulder, drawing his attention back to him. "Kevin should be with Buffy. We need to find them."

 _'If they made it out.'_ The traitorous voice in Dean's mind couldn't help but say, looking at the other hunter grimly. Pushing aside his uneasiness, the older Winchester nodded. Together, the two brothers broke into a sprint towards the safehouse boat.

* * *

~~Buffy~~

Buffy was running, desperately and with purpose as she cut through the nearest street, and then the road. She had Kevin in tow, clutching his hand as she forced him to keep up with her slayer stamina. Both of them were drenched with water and soot smudges from the boat. They managed to leave, but that left finding someplace to hide or get the hell out of here. There were very little avenues with Crowley so close. The only thing she could think of was getting them to the Dean's car.

Just as they were half-ways towards Dean's car. before either of them could think of the next thing to do, something interrupted it. A sensation crawled up the base of Buffy's spine and she turned around quickly. Dismay and anger sank inside her like a stone in water.

Crowley was walking towards them. "Really now? This was your getaway strategy?" The King of Hell began in a mocking tone. He paused, surveying Buffy with an unimpressed eye. "Aren't you a natural blonde."

"It's Crowley!" Kevin said with a slightly shrill edge, instinctively holding the half-tablet tightly to his chest.

At his voice, the crossroad demon's eyes landed on the prophet. His expression softened. "Ah, Kevin. Nice to see you're still alive." Crowley greeted in mock affection, though there seemed to be a degree of relief on his face. "Apologies for the _Rambo_ venture. Not my finest work, but you are a elusive little prophet. Had to sink my claws in you again somehow."

The King began to advance menacingly. Buffy instinctively shoved Kevin behind her, pressing his back against the Impala as she pointed her angel blade out defensively. Before the blonde slayer could speak, the demon continued on. "Aren't you tired of this, Kevin? The fear, the running. I know I am." Crowley drawled meaningfully.

"So jumping on the Dem Team. Getting used and abused by a evil psychopath. That just solves _all_ his tiredness." Buffy said sarcastically, disgusted.

"And the _Winchesters_ are so much better?" Crowley challenged. "The boy is signing his own death warrant. Join their Scooby Gang, your life expectancy is cut down to a fruit fly's. If Kevin was smart ... he'd run." The King of Hell said matter-of-factly. He turned to the prophet ominously. "They don't care about you, Kev. You're just the tool they store in the shed until you're too used and too broken to work anymore. Deep down, you know it's true."

Kevin was staring at Crowley with an uncertain look.

"Don't listen to him, Kevin. He's just trying to turn you against them." Buffy reassured in a decisive tone. "He's _lying_."

The King of Hell studied her. " ... You really _are_ the new kid, aren't you?" He suddenly said drolly. A meaningful look entered his eyes. "You're applying for a job in _Winchester Investigations_ with just the catchy jingle and not the messy bits. You don't know what they've done. What they _still_ do. Self-righteous, hypocritical prats, the both of them. Just walking, talking sacks of damage control." He described in marked contempt. The King shrugged. "I mean, at least I'm honest about myself."

Buffy's face remained impassive. She knew Crowley was just trying to get to her. A part of her though, couldn't help but but wonder. She had only known the brothers for a few weeks. They weren't open about their past or even themselves. Sam and Dean were still such a mystery to her. The only reason she had chose to trust them so soon was because with her situation, she had been forced to. Just how many secrets were they hiding?

The slayer pushed away that thought immediately. Crowley was a demon. Crowley was _evil._ You don't trust evil.

"You really love to hear yourself talk, don't you?" The blonde responded flatly.

Crowley was unfazed. "... Think on it." He said simply with a tilt of his head, attitude unfailingly nonchalant.

" _Ohh_ , I don't think thinking is in order anymore." Buffy answered with feeling, glaring at the King of Hell a second before rushing him with his blade.

Crowley barely even blinked, doing a wave of his arm. Realization hit her a second before the blonde slayer was tossed aside, flung away. She hit the top harshly of a nearby parked car several feet away, denting it badly. A car alarm was set off. Soreness danced across her stomach that took the brunt of the landing. She shook her head, oblivious to the car alarm and emitting a small groan.

The King of Hell smirked. "Wait your turn, kitten. One gag gift at a time." Crowley responded in mock indulgence.

He turned to a now scared Kevin, still clinging to half-tablet like it was his lifeline. The prophet appeared frozen, unsure what to do. "Kevin, Kevin, Kevin ... thought you could elude me forever?" He drawled as he continued approaching him, his false pleasantries slipping into very real menace towards the end. "Wonder how I found you?" The boy tensed as he continued. "If you can't find _one_ Tran ... find another. Your mummy."

That snapped Buffy out of her semi-daze real fast. Her eyes widened as she took in the Crowley's increasing proximity to the boy. Horror and protest burned inside the blonde slayer. _No. No, I'm_ not _letting you take him!_ Blocking out the car alarm and the bruises, Buffy pushed herself up and jumped off the car.

A myriad of emotions flooded Kevin's eyes, but the prophet kept a brave face. "She never would've told you."

"Moms are like, aren't they?" Crowley responded, his casualness soured by the suddenly cold look in his eyes. "So we killed her and got your address off her smartphone." He revealed in brutal matter-of-factness.

That cracked the boy. Sheer anguish filled his entire expression. _"NO!"_ He shouted, unshed tears in his eyes.

Buffy was dashing towards them, her registering of the massive bomb dropped on the boy just giving her more energy. However, she finally registered another thing that snapped her out of her tunnel vision: the arrival of Sam and Dean, closer to the King.

The Winchesters brothers swooped in, gaining a surprise attack on Crowley as they came at him from the side. There was a blur of punches between Sam and Dean and Crowley until Dean got the final blow, kicking him to the side from the prophet as forcefully as he could. The blonde slayer hadn't even paused in her running, beside them in no time and standing between Kevin and Crowley.

"Get Kevin in the car." Dean told Sam curtly.

His younger brother nodded. He turned his attention to Kevin, who looked shell-shocked. "Come on, come on. We gotta go." Sam was muttering hurriedly, starting to usher the prophet towards the backseat.

" _Again_ , boys? Isn't this getting a bit old?" Crowley said flatly, anger starting to slip into his normally cool tone as he advanced.

Buffy and Dean tensed, both ready to fight Crowley tooth and nail to get Kevin to safety.

Then suddenly Crowley abruptly stilled. Disbelief echoing her own filled the crossroad demon's face, then hardened and he looked down. Buffy didn't see anything at all other than the hard black ground. Then with closer inspection, she saw a faded but slightly darker lining that branched out all around the monster. It was barely noticeable, but with a little squinting she saw what it was resembling: a _Devil's Trap_.

Dean was smirking. "Put a couple Devils' Traps right around the Impala, just in case." The older hunter revealed in intense satisfaction. The King of Hell's expression was rapidly darkening and becoming more threatening as he continued. "Gasoline-style. My personal touch." He clarified just a little smugly.

 _Aren't you supposed to do it with spray paint or chalk or something?_ Buffy couldn't help but think, remembering her notes. But doing that would too obvious in this kind of setting if you were wanting to trap demons. With the gasoline, it was faded and blended in so well with this coveniently paticular dark road you wouldn't even notice unless you were looking.

Surprise and even a little respect for Dean's orthodox but clever method washed over Buffy. She had been slaying for years and the fighting style that always worked best to her was the one the hunter was showing: improvisational, out-of-the-box techniques. Those were key if you ever going to live a little longer than most in killing monsters and Dean had that. He was a natural fighter.

 _He's good. They_ both _are._ The blonde thought, a level of respect and comfort settling over the blonde slayer. It was nice to be fighting alongside a couple skilled, experienced _human_ demon hunters for a change.

Crowley met Dean's mockery with a dark stare. " ... You realize this won't hold me long." The King of Hell stated matter-of-factly.

The Winchester's smirk disappeared, his expression morphed into a more hard and serious one. "... It'll hold you long enough." He answered grimly.

Dean turned away. Sam, who had already secured Kevin in the backseat and was standing just outside his door, tossed his older brother the car keys as he headed quickly towards the driver's seat. In quick, urgent movement, Buffy and the brothers bundled themselves into the Impala. As Dean turned on the ignition and stepped hard on the accelerator, the blonde slayer heard a furious and rapidly fading voice in the distance.

"I'LL **_FIND_** YOU! I'LL **_BLOODY_** FIND YOU!"

* * *

~~Dean~~

Kevin sat in a chair back in the bunker. He was holding the half-tablet with both hands, his eyes staring unseeingly into space. He was still partially damp from the swim he had taken earlier and had signs of soot, his black hair matted and bangs unevenly splayed across his forehead. He looked like absolute hell, more than ever it seemed like.

Dean and Sam were clustered around the prophet awkwardly. A long, painful silence passed between them, Kevin seeming nearly catatonic again while the brothers they just didn't know what to say. A heavy heart weighed on Dean.

" ... Do you need anything, Kevin? Food maybe?" Sam finally broke the silence.

The black-haired prophet just shook his head. "I'm not hungry."

Dean studied him uncertainly, still in the realm of having no idea how to what to say. What could you really say to someone who just lost his mother and his entire life even outside that fell into the crapshoot? He let out a small sigh. "How are you feeling?" He asked at last.

Kevin didn't respond right away. " ... I just got flushed out of my safehouse like a rat, manhandled around and pushed out a window by a girl _,_ swam at least a quarter mile, and found out Crowley killed my mom. I think _'crappy'_ would be an understatement." The prophet answered listlessly.

 _Okay._ _Bad question._ The hunter lowered his head uncomfortably, immediately regretting his stupid words.

"But you still have half of the tablet. And you're alive, Kevin." Sam reminded him with feeling. "You made it. Crowley didn't win." He added with conviction.

The prophet just looked at him wearily. His pity for the kid sharpened. He couldn't hold it back anymore." ... Hey, look, Kev. We're sorry what happened to your mom, okay? We should've kept tabs on her." Dean told him in all seriousness.

Kevin said nothing, staring at him with an blank expression. There was a long pause. Finally he shook his head. " ... I think I'll just go upstairs. Try to get some sleep." The prophet said tiredly, rising.

Dean looked at him, then nodded understandingly. The black-haired boy stepped away from the table with the half-tablet still clutched between his hands. He walked away from the two brothers and headed upstairs with a single word.

"Poor Kevin ..." Sam said sympathetically, once he was out of sight.

The older Winchester shook his head. "That kid's been getting one proverbial crap sandwich after another. The prophet biz, Crowley and his douche demons, and now this. Plenty of people go through their whole lives without having to deal with this kind of freak." Dean remarked with feeling.

His younger brother nodded. "That's why we he have to help him. Keep him grounded. Make sure he doesn't completely fall apart." The brown-haired hunter declared. "Garth's boat ... that thing's torched. We gotta keep him here, at the bunker. No other choice." Sam pointed out, sounding reluctant but not unsure.

The hunter absorbed those terms. He shrugged. "Yeah, but there's not much we can do for him now. _Dexter_ just got orphaned. Flowers and cards ain't gonna heal that." Dean said resignedly. "Only thing we can do for him right now is give him all-out access to _Winchester Inn_."

"Does it come with mints?"

The casual sudden quip interrupted them. Buffy was walking towards them with her hands on her hips, smiling wryly. Her blonde hair was freshly combed, washed and blow-dried, slightly wavy with her bangs styled to the side. Both her and Kevin had looked like drowned rats when they first got here. Now the slayer showered and got a change of clothes: a medium-length sleeved, loose-fitting blouse in a faded dark pink color with dark jeans. A long necklace with a large cross was accessorizing it.

Humor sparked in Dean. " _Junior_ ones. One each rock-hard pillow." He played off dryly, a slight smile on his lips despite himself.

Buffy looked amused. They stared at each other a second before she glanced upstairs. "I'm sorry about what happened to Kevin's mom, and ... god, everything else. He never should've had anything to _do_ with all this." She stated seriously. She looked back to the brothers. "But it's only going to get harder. He needs to be ready. The Gates ... that's not something he can just shrug off." There was sympathy in Buffy's voice, but not uncertainty.

Dean said nothing, pity for Kevin stirring again. She was right. Even though he and Sam would try to keep Kevin safe, things did happen and the demons were just going to keep coming. He had to shut off his grief to do the job. That was just his life, sad as it was.

Buffy gave a small sigh. "I had a talk with him before. I ... I think I got through to him. About ... coming to _terms_ with everything." She revealed. She frowned, shaking his head. "But after that fight with Crowley, I'm not sure if my _Oprah_ audition is enough anymore. It's a very strained bungee. Now there's the mom thing and ... I can't help feeling it's gonna snap and Kevin's just gonna fall off the cliff." The blonde admitted uneasily.

Dean couldn't call the reasoning in that unfounded. Kevin had clearly been floundering under all the pressure even before this incident. It could easily just be the last straw that broke the camel's back. It'd make sense for him to skip out. _I wouldn't blame him._

"It wouldn't be a surprise. Crowley knows what to do to get under your skin." Sam acknowledged with distaste, echoing his older brother's thoughts.

The older Winchester half-shrugged. "Hey, at least we got Kevin and half of the tablet. Two for one."

"Wouldn't that technically be one and a half?" Buffy pointed out flatly, uncomprehending.

Dean shot her a hard look. " _Hey_. Picking our battles here, alright? One problem at a time." The hunter answered just a tad defensively, gesturing with his arm. "Kevin ditched Crowley. That's a win. We got him away from the _Candyman_."

The blonde paused contemplatively. " ... So _he's_ the King of Hell, huh?" Buffy mused, a wry smile on her face. "Interesting guy. Snappy dresser. Can I kill him?" She said casually, looking at the boys expectantly.

"Get in line." Dean responded meaningfully, unfazed.

Sam scoffed. "Starts right behind us."

The slayer smiled. She studied them thoughtfully. " ... I think I might be starting to get why you have a belt or two in monster-fighting." Buffy said suddenly, startling both brothers. She looked slightly awkward. "You two were good in that fight. It ... surprised me." She admitted a little lamely.

For someone who certainly seemed to have a very high view of her own hunting skills, the confession also surprised Dean. Buffy this whole time seemed to have a thinly veiled "I'm-Just-As-Good-If-Not-Better" complex even when she was taking notes off them and following their orders.

Satisfaction welled up in the older Winchester. _Finally_ a little respect in hunting. That went a long way with him.

"And who says you need powers?" Dean couldn't help himself, smirking a little triumphantly. As he said it though, he was acutely conscious of him and Sam's bruises and cracked bones based on Buffy's near-flawlessness. He certainly wouldn't mind that healing factor of hers though.

"That gasoline trap ... real spur-of-the-moment, on the fly kind of deal, right?" The blonde prompted suddenly.

Dean stared at her in more surprise, but nodded.

Buffy nodded. "That's what I thought. You couldn't just lay a bunch of normal devils' trap everywhere or else they'd see it. Gasoline graffiti on a road like that? Not obvious. Perfect mouse trap." She explained matter-of-factly. "Nice work. So there is a brain in that overwhelmingly jock head of yours." Buffy commented, the barb more teasing than snide.

Supreme pleasure at the unexpected praise warmed Dean. For the first time, Buffy actually looked really impressed with him. A smile of satisfaction broke out on his face. "You kidding? I'm ... I'm like a modern-day _Patton."_ Dean described in suave confidence.

An immediate sound of incredulity came from Sam. "Yeah. Yeah, you're a _Patton_." His younger brother said sarcastically.

Dean didn't let that distract him, still projecting the same confidence as he didn't take his eyes off Buffy. Buffy rolled her eyes at him and immediately turned to leave, though the hunter caught an amused smile on her lips.

Dean remained unfazed, his pleased smirk not leaving. His mind wandered to their conversation this morning just before crap hit the fan with Kevin. There had been a connection between them there in a very weird, twisted way. It wasn't often he could talk to someone who had a life just as six ways screwed as his and Sam's. It intrigued Dean in a morbid sort of way.

The situation was complicated. Buffy was being snarky towards him and still pretty resistant, but he had felt a spark from her a minute this morning. Despite her rejections, he was starting to see openings. He could sense a slight shift in Buffy's attitude towards him. With a little more work, he might actually get that "fun night" he's been betting on.

 _I'm softening her up._ Dean thought with certainty, watching as the slayer disappeared upstairs.

"You're full of crap, Dean." Sam suddenly remarked condescendingly. The taller Winchester was giving him an unimpressed look. "The gasoline Devil's Trap? No guarantee of working. It could've just got ruined by people just passing right away or you messed up it somehow because of the liquid and all the magic, gone. It wasn't solid like chalk or spray paint. You got _lucky_." He declared matter-of-factly.

The hunter still had his eyes in Buffy's direction. " _..._ _She_ doesn't know that." Dean responded meaningfully, pointing in her direction.

Sam just made a unimpressed sound and rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

* * *

~~Buffy~~

Buffy stood in her room, a block in one hand and a silver knife in the other as she ran the block across it's edge. A few other knives and the angel blade were arranged neatly to the right of her on top of her bed, all of them sharpened to perfection. Sharpening weapons every night had been one of the few compulsive habits of hers that was surviving this alternate universe thing. The familiar routine gave her an odd kind of calm.

 _I miss stakes ..._ The blonde slayer couldn't help but think. Lately she was starting to feel like her kickass whittling skills were going into early retirement.

As blonde did the final touches on the blade, her mind raced with today. It been a day of fire, fighting, and running and in a strange way Buffy realized she felt a little better. She had been trapped in this room for two weeks and finally got out and did something. It wasn't tracking a lead to Labolas or that special scythe, but it was what she usually did: fighting evil and helping people.

 _Dean was right. I really_ did _need to get out._ She reflected in hindsight. All the 'strained-just-waiting-to-snap' tension in her body seemed to seep out of her through all the adrenaline. Granted that didn't solve her frustration at everything _else_ , but she was taking what she could get.

She wished it hadn't been at the expense of Kevin though. The boy had been going through the ringer, probably more than she even knew. But Buffy had helped save him and that was a silver lining at least for her.

Sympathy washed over Buffy. She felt so sorry for Kevin, having to juggle the prophet responsibility and now the death of a mother. It reminded her painfully of how she had felt when had to do the same, fresh off her mother's death and dealing with Glory's apocalypse while protecting Dawn on top of that. It had been so overwhelming. Buffy hoped Sam and Dean would stick by him, even though they couldn't ease his loneliness.

Buffy knew she had only just met Kevin, but she felt a kindred connection to the boy. He reminded her a lot of herself: bound by duty and responsibility over something that happened to you you had no say in when all you really wanted to do was just walk away. Kevin didn't know how to handle that yet. The slayer just prayed with his mother's death he wouldn't fall off the edge and the brothers would be there for him because _she_ couldn't.

 _But with the harsh kick in the face from demons, comes another harsh kick. I can't just keep sitting around hibernating in Bookville. I need Action Girl back. I need to be_ me _._ The blonde thought with certainty.

Her answers weren't in the Men of Letters files. She needed to go out _there._ Out in the world and finding any sign of a trail home. She might find what she's looking ... she might not. But _anything_ was better than this.

The blonde slayer finished off the knife, putting it in her duffel and bagging the rest of the weapons inside. Her scythe was last. Buffy paused, staring at it before slowly reaching for it. She held it up with one hand, studying it pensively. It reminded her so much of home. It was her last link to her own universe.

Determination flowed through the small blonde. _I need to go home. I_ will _go home. My friends are waiting._ Buffy thought, pushing aside everything else as she shoved the scythe in.

The blonde slayer checked the inside of the bag just in case. A sudden pang struck her right to the heart. All of the weapons and other supernatural defenses inside ... belonged to Sam and Dean. Only one of the weapons was her own.

The sniggling voice of guilt in the back of her mind suddenly became loud. _They've done so much for me ... giving me their weapons, teaching me. Trying to help go make my way back to my world. They're practically holding my hand._

When this only thing had started, Buffy had only cared about going back. She had been just so desperate for help. Now though she felt awful. She had showed up when Sam and Dean had bigger problems and they still did, even more so now with Labolas. And what did they do? Help her research. Keep promising to find her that ticket to her world. Give her company. Rent her out a room in their bunker. All the while trying to juggle their own issues _and_ hers.

The more she thought about it, the worse the slayer felt. They didn't _need_ to do these things for her. In fact, they actually had every right to slam the door on her. But they didn't and _wouldn't_. Who was Buffy to worm her way into their problems? She felt like she was just wrongly taking advantage of the brothers' kindness.

 _I_ can't _keep doing this to them. I ... I need to leave. I'm ... I'm just distracting them._ Buffy thought in resigned acknowledgment. She wasn't going to be that sponge that just lived off everyone else.

Regret swept over Buffy despite herself. Breaking out on her own now would be breaking out with no leads and no clear solution. She didn't want to leave Dean and Sam so soon. They were at least her quasi-friends and lord knows she had no familiarity in this world with anything really except them. But she wasn't the type of person to let this keep going. It has to end.

She tried to tell herself it couldn't be too bad. Buffy knew how to handle things on her own. Been doing it for years as The Slayer. Deep down, she knew she could find a trail and follow it home all by herself. She'd be miserable and bordering on depressed the whole time, but she could still do it.

For a second there, she almost believed.

Mindlessly, Buffy took each of the brothers' weapons out one by one. The next to go was the holy water and the faux credit cards. Even the angel blade wasn't excluded from her literal cleansing of anything Winchester property. She lined each one of them neatly on the bed. The only thing left in her bag now was her clothes and her scythe.

Sighing, Buffy zipped her bag and put the strap over shoulder. She had to leave Dean and Sam ... even if it was prematurely indefinitely. _I have to. No more Velcro Girl. They don't need me._ The small blonde thought, mentally berating her own feelings. No more weepiness. No more doubt. No more fear. Only the right thing.

With a bracing strength, the slayer turned and walked out her— _the_ bedroom. Buffy paused at the doorway, craning her neck cautiously as she looked both ways to make sure no one was there. The coast was clear. The blonde slayer crept down the hall stealthily, moving with particular awareness when the communications room was visible. She peeled herself to the wall, giving one cursory glance below to make sure no one saw her.

No one did.

Letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding, Buffy continued towards the exit. Just as she turned sharply to head down the tunnel out, Dean suddenly appeared from inside it. In one precarious second she was dangerously close to his face. The blonde slayer drew back quickly with wide eyes, narrowly saving herself from the collision.

Dean stood in the middle of the tunnel entrance, a bag of fast food in his hand and staring at her with a surprised look on his face. Then he took in the bag and Buffy's "deer-in-the-headlights" look and that surprise turned into suspicion. " ... Going somewhere?" He deadpanned.

Crap.

 ** _####_**

Buffy's split-second plan had been quite simple really.

Leave the bunker without a single goodbye. Just discreetly leave through the tunnel and face the differences of this world and her mission to find that dimension scythe/Labolas, _alone_. Dean and Sam would come to her room, see all their things she returned, and figure out she skipped. They'd call her. She'd give this really short, clipped explanation of going their separate ways and then she'd hang up on them. She wouldn't tell them where she was. Then she'd figure out a way to mail the cell phone to them so they couldn't use it to track her and that'd be that. She'd never see them again.

What actually _happened_?

Caught by Dean on a food run at the last second. Her still in the bunker standing awkwardly in the middle of the library in front of Sam and Dean, tension thick between them and a sea of Winchester questions that demanded answers. Phasing through the floor or even melting into a puddle would've been pretty liberating at that point.

Buffy squirmed under their intense stares. Were they really gonna make her the first one to talk?

" ... I'm ... leaving." The slayer forced out lamely.

"Yeah, thanks for telling us." Sam responded sardonically, a noticeable edge to his voice.

Dean looked wary. " _Brand_ new information, Escapist Girl. Fast-forward to the why."

The blonde slayer sighed softly. _No getting out of this one._ "The only reason I go _anywhere_. To get that dimension scythe or maybe an answer or two from demon _Doc Brown_." Buffy answered resignedly.

"You found a lead?" The older Winchester asked in surprise.

More not-so-comfortable feelings. Reluctantly the blonde shook her head. "Hence the 'out-and-about-to-look' move." She explained shortly, hoping that was enough.

"So you're just going. No direction, no ideas. Just ... wherever the wind takes you." Sam reacted incredulously, throwing out his arm and raising his eyebrows.

 _Okay. That definitely sounds pretty bad._ The small slayer recognized uneasily, not quite knowing what to say to that a second.

She forced a smile. "Like the _Mayflower_ and the Pilgrims. Just channeling a little pioneer spirit." She quipped weakly. At the brothers still unconvinced looks, she dropped the act. "I can't just keeping staying inside and reading books that won't help me. So I'm gonna go and try to find a trail. That's what _you_ told me, remember?" Buffy explained a little impatiently, addressing Dean in the last bit as she gestured to him.

The hunter raised a hand at her calmingly. "Hey. Not taking it back. I mean, that's great. Go proactivity." He clarified quickly. "Just don't forget about us. We got feelers out for Labolas and that giant magic toothpick. Any sign of either, we'll help." Dean assured with ease.

Instantaneous frustration crashed into Buffy. There it was. _Exactly_ the answer she _expected_ to hear and exactly the one she didn't _want_ to. She let out a tight breath, fighting to control herself. "I don't _want_ anymore of your _help_. I'm doing the rest of this solo." The slayer asserted in a final tone.

Both brothers stared at her incredulously.

"But you don't even have a lead!" Sam protested.

"Which is _my_ problem, not yours, okay?!" Buffy said just a little pleadingly, her distress finally starting to seep through. "You guys have so many other things to worry about. Serious, _important_ things! So no more _Dorothy_ , _Scarecrow_ , and the _Tin Man_." The small blonde argued passionately. "This is _it_. Curtain closed on Hurricane Buffy."

"So that's what your rapid exit was, huh? The crappy _Great Escape_?" Dean realized scornfully.

The blonde slayer paused, mixed feelings of sadness and resignation hitting her. " ... It's _better_ like this." She responded in quiet certainty. She shook her head, desperate for them to understand. "The Gates, Crowley, _Kevin_... If I keep this thing up with you, I'll just get in the way."

"In the _way_? You just helped us _save_ Kevin!" Dean reminded her, throwing out his hand and actually looking a little angry.

"That _d_ _oesn't matter_. You still have _Kevin_ and the Gates to worry about." The small blonde insisted.

Dean was scowling at her. " _Kevin_ is still translating! We can't do a damn thing about the Gates 'till he lights the torches. We got time to kill!"

"And what about Crowley? Finding out how to kill _Labolas_? That just falls under a little time-killing?" Buffy challenged sternly.

Before Dean could respond, Sam beat him to it. "Buffy. You're not ... _in_ the way." The brown-haired hunter disagreed, looking baffled as he threw out his hand. "I mean, you're right. We are juggling a lot. But we're not just _forgetting_ about it. It's called _multi-tasking_."

"The thing about multi-tasking? Only great in theory." The slayer began pointedly. "My drama is taking away from _your_ drama. And mine is ..." Buffy went on as she pointed to herself and the brothers, trailing off with a shake of head as she struggled to express herself. She let out a breath. "I just don't want to wear out my welcome." She finished simply.

"So that's it. You're just gonna cut us loose. Trooping the rest out, _alone_." Dean said accusingly, gaze sharp with disapproval.

Tired aggravation resurfaced in Buffy. She shook her head agitatedly. "Right, 'cause it's not like my road trip of one to _Demon University_ didn't get the _'okay'_. Remember that, Mr. and Mr. 'We-Got-Our-Own-Problems'?" The

"Because we got you a lead!" The older Winchester retorted. "Because that was before _Dr. Evil_ blew up our whole spot and knocked you around a bunch of times thanks to his 'special vitamins'. It's different!" He reasoned impatiently.

Intense emotion swept over Buffy. Sam and Dean were both so desperate to help her. It hurt so much. She just wasn't used to being in this situation. The blonde slayer had needed help several times before as the slayer ... but never like this. Never a situation where she was quite literally helpless. Apocalypses she could handle. Not this. Not depending on and taking advantage of these good people with world-sized issues just because she couldn't stand on her own feet.

The distress and shame inside reached a crescendo. Buffy stared at them unhappily. "I'm not ... your _responsibility_. Kevin and the demons and everything else _is_. My _'Little Lost Girl'_ routine shouldn't be going so far on this one." The small blonde stated sadly.

Mixed feelings of guilt and regret funneled through the blonde slayer. She didn't want to be alone. Alone in doing everything, _again_. Being in this world made everything so much harder. But she didn't want to be a liability. Buffy would rather brave the loneliness and the confusion than hold anyone back ever again.

" ... Neither one of us can stop you from leaving." Sam acknowledged seriously. "But ... you've been _helping_ us, Buffy. With Kevin, with the prophecy, hell even the hunting. We _needed_ _your_ help. You can't say you don't need ours too." The brown-haired hunter said, shaking his head.

Buffy couldn't be swayed. She looked over both brothers with remorse, then shook her head sadly. "I can't do this to you two. I'm sorry." The blonde slayer said quietly, starting to turn away.

"Okay. That it's." Dean grumbled suddenly. The slayer glanced back as the Winchester moved, walking determinedly right up to her. He paused, pointing behind her with a stern look in his eyes. "You go out that door, you're going on a suicide mission. And you ain't gonna come back to your friends dead!" The hunter stated harshly, looking at her angrily.

A long moment passed. Buffy could only stare at Dean, not knowing what to say.

"You should listen to us." Sam began meaningfully. He shrugged, throwing out his hands. "I mean, it's not like we don't have something in common, y'know? Crowley, _Labolas_. They're _your_ problems too. And with finding the scythe, you might need Cas again. You can't just ... _cut_ us out. Like, it's not that simple." He argued reasonably.

The blonde slayer tensed momentarily at the mention of the angel. She'd been thinking a lot about their confrontation with Labolas and the simultaneous misleading scythe deal. There was just something very off there. Buffy's been having a really weird feeling about Castiel ever since.

Dean snapped her out of her musing. The older Winchester's anger seemed to melt away just a bit. He stared down at her intensely. "Don't _Lone Wolf_ this. We work this thing, we do it as a team." He expressed forcefully, in a tone meant for no ' _buts'_. "I got out of Purgatory ... because I didn't do it alone. And if you're ever gonna get out of here, you can't do it alone either."

Buffy floundered, torn. She just didn't know what to do. No matter what Dean or Sam said, she still had her doubts. _What if I'm just turning them into my packhorse?_

But as she filtered in everything the brothers said, she realized they weren't wrong. Most of her problems definitely overlapped with theirs. If Crowley found her again or if she found Labolas, they were by definition "their" problems. Trying to completely distance herself from the Winchesters wouldn't work long at all. And if just went back to doing everything alone ... could she honestly say even as a slayer she'd last long in a world she didn't even know?

The blonde slayer stared at Dean and Sam, struck deeper this time by their earnest and genuine desire to help her. Even though they didn't truly owe her anything, they refused to abandon her. They wouldn't let her do everything alone, just like her friends. Her friends back at home never let her, even when she tried to. Something about Sam and Dean reminded her of them ... and maybe she needed them for more than just help.

Acceptance and gratitude settled over the slayer. Buffy extended out her hand to the brothers in a handshake, a sincere smile on her face. "Team."

* * *

 **A/N:** **Premature chapter finished. :) I hope it came out good. I'm kinda nervous about it. There was some writers' block for parts of this, which I don't often get surprisingly, so I had to rethink a few certain areas and make a way for it work around my planning outline. I just hope you guys enjoyed it more than my inner critic did lol.**

 **The Dean/Buffy moments, though, were _definitely_ not one of those. The beginning especially I was literally either laughing or smiling as I wrote it. Buffy undeniably attracted to Dean and his charm, but desperately logic-ing her self out of it over and over is just so cute lol. Their banter. They have the same sense of humor and I fucking love it. Buffy's hopeless "Dean's another Parker" mantra (Parker is the ass that used her for sex in S4, if anyone forgot). Her reactions tho. xD** **Poor Buffy lol. So sexually frustrated and Dean's just not going easy on her. ;)**

 **The Kevin-Buffy bonding was an unexpected surprise in the pre-writing. All the similarities between being a slayer vs. being a prophet/Buffy's angst vs. Kevin's angst. I have a lot of fondness for it though. I loved Dean's big brother relationship with Kevin in the show so Buffy having a strong sisterly bond to him also works for me. Her speech to him was beautiful. Buffy is my favorite heroine ever and writing that reminded me of all the reasons I love her. :3**

 **Buffy finally meeting Crowley. xD Getting Crowley's voice down perfectly continues to be the bane of my existence, but the slinging battle of snark between them even with the spots of seriousness still entertained me. We all know Buffy would hate him so much LOL.**

 **Dean/Buffy are going to start getting more attention now, as you can probably tell. No instant seriousness tho. Their relationship IMO is literally one that would go through every stage. Dean's not the type of guy surface-level Buffy just goes for while Dean avoids emotional intimacy religiously so yeah, not a Disney romance. IMO it'd definitely happen tho and finally being able to focus a little more on them in the gradual ride is exciting. ;)**

 **NEXT CHAPTER:** Finally coming to a understanding, Buffy and the brothers are a team stronger than ever. Buffy determinedly continues to look into Labolas' disappearance and the missing scythe despite being weighed down my a massive lack of leads, ending into a unsettling revelation followed by a little solace and companionship in an unexpected place.

 ** _Thanks for the 49 favorites, 97 follows, and 39 reviews!_**


	8. Chapter 8: Two Sides of the Same Coin

**A/N:** Update up! :) I'm glad you're all liking the writing so far for the Buffy/Dean build-up, even there hasn't been much yet other than some sexual tension. It's not so much my preference for slow-burn romances (though I do **_love_ ** slow-burn romances) as me trying to keep this fic character-consistent. If you ever have any tips or don't think the pairing interaction isn't living up to Buffy or Dean properly enough in a major way, you can always tell me. I might disagree with you, I might not but I'm always open to thoughts either way. :)

This chapter has loads of character interaction. Hope you like it!

 **Disclaimer: If had any ownership of anything Buffy or Supernatural, I wouldn't be writing this. Joss Whedon and Eric Kripke will forever be boss. I'm just borrowing their characters for my fun little plot bunnies. **

_**Constructive criticism/OCCness thoughts welcome! :)**_

* * *

 _Two Sides of the Same Coin_

~~Sam~~

Sam stared with a glazed over look in his eyes, his fingers poised on the keyboard of his laptop. A flurry of unpleasant emotions had been building in the Winchester, twisting his mind around and evading the focus he was so good at. Tension had made it's home on every muscle of his body and it was all he could do now not to snap. Sam's long-suffering expression could be summed up in only one phrase: _'Kill me'_.

"Oh, don't start that crap again."

" _Crap?_ How about _'I don't need this'_?"

"Sure! _I_ don't need _this_!"

"Well, maybe if you stopped locking away my wardrobe ..."

" _Who cares!_ You think _I_ like those monkey-suits? It's the _job_!"

"Ten years of fashion-forward freelance disagree with you there!"

Sam closed his eyes, pained. He had _intended_ to work. He was _trying_ to work ... and he wasn't the only one. Kevin sat across from him, the half-tablet between his hands. His face was twitching uncomfortably, gripping the object hard. Pure frustration was shining in his eyes.

The Men of Letters library was always a perfect place to work.

Not today.

"It's just that I don't see the _point_." Buffy was arguing, standing with a short distance away from Sam. "I mean, undercover once and a while, _sure_! But _all_ the time?" The blonde let out an exasperated breath and put a hand on her forehead. "How do you get anything _done_ around here?" She muttered, shaking her head.

" _Subtlety!"_ Dean snapped instantaneously. "How do _you_ get anything done, huh? Running around in the open, _Top Model_ -ling your way through slicing monsters and sippin' cappuccinos." He described disdainfully. "You know what happens to you when you do that? Slammers or _Cuckoo's Nest_ , that's what happens!"

"And _I'm_ saying it doesn't." Buffy shot back, her tone taut with annoyance. "Note my lack of straight-jacket or ball and chain." She deadpanned, gesturing to herself.

"Well, then you got lucky." The older Winchester said condescendingly.

" _Luck?"_ Buffy said in disbelief, eyes wide. " _Okay_. If you knew _anything_ about _my_ way—"

"What, that it's crap? Not breaking news." Dean responded curtly, shaking his head.

The blonde slayer stared at him incredulously. An indignant noise escaped her throat. " _Excuse_ me? How many apocalypses have _you_ stopped? 'Cause I can promise you, I _definitely_ stopped more." Buffy retorted with feeling.

"Is that right?" The Winchester sniped back skeptically.

Sam sighed heavily, running a hand down his face. He willed himself to stay calm. One of them needed to be. "Dean ... for _god's sake_ , just let it go." He said in a strangled voice, fully aware of how pleading he sounded and too strung-out to care.

For the first time in what felt eons, Dean actually registered he was there. His brother gave him a reluctant look, considering, then turned back to Buffy. "It's just not how we do, alright? Vanilla, chocolate." He finished in exasperation, gesturing to Buffy and him and Sam respectively.

Buffy gave an annoyed sigh. "Can I at least lose the dress-up? We're supposed to be killing monsters, not my wardrobe." She grumbled.

"Ah, that's what this is all about, isn't it?" Dean exclaimed, a sudden knowing smirk on his face. He paused, leaning in closer to her. "You just miss your clothes." He mocked in exaggerated understanding.

"You're putting them on _life support_." Buffy responded glumly. "Vampire and demons ... okay. I can deal. But taking away my _clothes_? No recovery. World shattering around me." The blonde slayer said meaningfully, her look wide-eyed.

"Yeah, yeah it's frickin' tragic. Answer's still no." Dean deadpanned.

The blonde's eyes widened incredulously. "I am _not_ dull-as-dishwater FBI chic. I have _outfits_!" Buffy protested. A second later she frowned. "W-well, not _'home'_ mine ... but I still have fashion sense!" She said less convincingly, awkwardness creeping in even as whirled back around to defensive.

"Oh, my heart is _breaking_ for you. Would you like to be put on _Project Runway_?" Dean responded with particularly cutting sarcasm, the pinnacle of unimpressed.

The argument between the two fiery hunters had been revived as quickly as it burned out and all Sam could do was roll his eyes. How could he focus on finding a case with all this petty bickering? Why wasn't he already in his room, free of this torment? Didn't they have anything better to do?

 _I'm working with children._ He thought disdainfully.

A sudden slam rose above Buffy and Dean's voices. All three snapped their heads. Kevin had stood up, his tablet on the table. A tense, awkward moment passed as Kevin glared at them. " ... I think I'll be somewhere _quieter_." He finally said pointedly.

The look he shot at the two was scathing and in no time, he whisked out of the chair and walked away with the tablet. Buffy and Dean could only watch dumbly as the teenage boy headed upstairs. Self-awareness finally sunk in and the two quieted, looking away from each other self-consciously.

Relief swept over Sam. _Thank you, Kevin._ He thought with deep feeling. He couldn't help but relish the discomfort on Buffy and Dean. They looked like two scolded children and that fact it came from _Kevin_ was even better. It was entirely deserved. Maybe he could finally focus on finding that next case.

"It's just ... not how I slay." Buffy broke the silence in a small voice, her arms crossed and staring at her feet.

Dean shook his head. "Slay ... it's _hunt._ _Hunting_. Why do you call it that?" He asked tiredly as he looked at her, wearily uncomprehending.

Buffy was just as uncomprehending. "Slay- _er_. Slayers slay." She stressed it out like she was talking to an idiot, gesturing to herself

"Yeah, well, you're also a hunter. You wanna sound less like a _D &Der_, get with the times." The Winchester told her.

"What exactly does _that_ mean?" The slayer said with an edge, narrowing her eyes.

" _Reputation!_ Y'know, fitting in. Didn't see any other badass hunters walking around saying _'slay'_ or _'slaying'_ , do you?" Dean clarified incredulously.

Buffy smiled wryly and shrugged. "I'm a non-conformist."

His older brother looked mystified. "This isn't _Camelot_!" He protested weakly, sounding boyishly lost.

Sam watched this with sinking resignation. He sighed and shook his head. "Dean, just let it go. It's not—" He reiterated again exhaustedly.

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I just don't _like_ the hunter labels?" Buffy interrupted sharply.

The older Winchester turned incredulous. "Well, why not?"

The blonde slayer frowned in thought, then finally shook her head. "Just not my favor, I guess. It ... tastes bad." She responded in lame awkwardness, a proper explanation alluding her.

"Oh, and _'slayer'_ is so sweet?" The older Winchester responded derisively.

Buffy stiffened and stared at him through a narrowed green glare. "... Let me summarize this in words you can understand, Dean. Slayer: comfort zone. Hunter: not. All better?" She snarked in a tightly irritated tone.

The older hunter scoffed. "Well, sorry for trying to save your _reputation_ here, Miss Priss." He countered, unimpressed. "Remember when we ran into Irv on our last case? Dude was lookin' at you like a _World of Warcraft_ geek the second you kept dropping the 'S'-bomb."

"Oh, yeah. You're my real White Knight." Buffy replied sarcastically.

Sam took in a deep breath, eyes closed and face twitching as he forcibly clawed up what was left of his inner peace. Pure, pent-up frustration was coursing through him more powerfully than ever. _Just ignore them, just ignore them ..._ He was so close to just shouting at them to shut up.

A week had passed since they convinced Buffy to stay. With Buffy at last lowering some of her defenses, Sam had been certain things between them would be smoother. It had finally been starting to look like they would make a great team, and they were ... for about _two days_. The rest was in a constant friction Sam could never stave off for long and only for one reason: Buffy, Dean, and their _arguing_.

Sam had already known conflict between the two was inevitable, but the snippets from before hadn't prepared him for this. All they did this past week between the case was bicker and snark with each other over the pettiest things. It was exhausting on the hunter. Clearly Dean and Buffy were spending _far_ too much time with each other.

"It doesn't even matter, okay? _Slayer_ and hunter, _Pepsi_ and _Coke_. We all got a brand bias. Mine just so happens to start with the 'slay' prefix." The small blonde reasoned exasperatedly as she waved her arms around, flustered. "Besides, it's not like I didn't get the job _done_ ..."

Dean scoffed. "Oh, that's _real_ rich coming from the chick who used a damn stake on a _ghoul._ "

Buffy shrugged, her eyebrows raised challengingly. "Saved your ass, didn't it?" She retorted, her hands on her hips.

"Stakes do _not_ kill ghouls! The hell did you even bring one?" The Winchester reprimanded incredulously.

"Because I know how to use it!" The blonde snapped automatically.

Sam loudly cleared his throat, seizing the opportunity. "I, uh, might've found a case!" The younger Winchester declared in a raised voice. Desperately praying out of everything else, that was the one thing that reached them.

Buffy and Dean stopped mid-argument, screeching to a halt as they both swiveled their attention over to Sam. Immediately they hurried over, irritation replaced by business as they crowded around him. "Whatcha got?" Dean asked evenly, serious with his eyes glued to the laptop.

Overwhelming relief crashed down on the younger Winchester. _Thank god. Finally._ "Uh ... a murder in Chicago. A woman was found at home shoved in a stove and cooked alive." The brown-haired hunter informed with his eyes on the article. He turned back to look at them meaningfully. " _Liquefied_."

Buffy looked disgusted. Dean, in contrast, seemed vaguely intrigued. After a beat, he nodded. "Worth checking into." He agreed casually, shrugging and pulling back from the laptop.

"Does it say anything else?" Buffy inquired.

The younger Winchester skimmed through it quickly one more time. "Nothing specific. If anything else off happened, the authorities are probably keeping it under wraps. But from the looks of it, it's got enough weird to maybe be something."

The slayer frowned. "Right. Okay, um ..." She trailed away wearily, one hand in her hair. "Question. Have you ever hit the road over something that _might_ be something and then turned out to be nothing?" She asked quizzically.

" _All_ the damn time." Dean admitted with ease.

The blonde slayer took a moment to reply. " ... _Comfy_." She commented sardonically, looking disappointed.

"Comfy enough for me." The older Winchester responded uncaringly with a shrug. He turned back to his brother and smiled. "Well, Sammy. I guess we're heading for Old Chicago."

Buffy sighed. "Well, you know what they say. Better no monsters than ... murder-y monsters." She agreed, her awkwardly light tone slightly forced. After a moment she composed herself and became more steady. "I'll go."

His brother made a noise of disbelief. "Oh, well there's a shock." Dean deadpanned. "I mean, no cute outfits, no quick kills. Gee, I wonder how long you're gonna make it without making a fuss _this_ time." The Winchester mocked pointedly, sizing her up with an unimpressed look.

The small blonde glowered. " ... I think I'll manage somehow." She responded flatly.

"You sure? I mean, it's just so _hard_. Everything's so _hard_ on you. Y'know, 'world-shattering'. God, I don't know if you're gonna make it." The older hunter emphasized in exaggerated empathy, ragingly insincere.

"Better sure I'll make it farther than you." Buffy replied innocently.

Dean's only reaction was dim amusement. He shrugged. "I just worry."

"Aren't you sweet." Buffy responded dryly.

Sam observed with long-suffering resignation. He was so used to seeing their little jabs and spats already it was like watching the same conversation over and over again. "Guys ... the case?" He prompted pointedly, gesturing helplessly to his laptop.

" _Most_ of us here didn't forget." The small blonde spoke pointedly. She whirled around quickly on Dean. "And by the way, considering I'm still scythe and Labolas fancy-free ... I'll handle bad fashion and time management if it means _working_. I'm still on the _'Your Way'_ boat. _Unfortunately_." Buffy reprimanded in an exasperated huff.

His older brother sobered, studying her with an intent and meaningful look in his eye. Understanding seemed to finally fall on him and the hunter merely nodded.

Buffy pulled back, her hands on her hips. "Good. Now that _that's_ all cleared up ..." She announced in sudden cheerfulness. "Let me just go and dig up my weapons." She declared casually, turning away.

"You mean still more knives and blades with our guns. That'll end well." Dean commented drily.

That stopped Buffy, who glanced back at the hunter with a unimpressed stare.

"We might not be using guns. It just depends on what the thing is." Sam offered fairly.

"Yeah, but what if we do?" The older Winchester countered.

The blonde had turned back around, exasperated once again. "Then good for _you_! Keep up the gun-toting goodness. That's fine. I'll just be in my cozy corner of pointy things and slayer perks." She simplified with an edge.

His older brother scoffed. "Oh, yeah. _Great_ plan. Careful we don't 'Swiss Cheese' you." The hunter said condescendingly.

Buffy paused, taking in a calming breath. " ... Look. I'm gonna say this once and I'm not a big rehash fan." She began curtly, looking over both brothers meaningfully. "Slayers don't use guns, _ever_. End of talk, good talk." The blonde stated in finality, immediately turning right back around to leave.

Sam watched her go wearily. He truly didn't understand the woman's strong aversion to guns. It might have something to do with her powers which he respected but still found unreasonable. She was working around _guns_. Even with her abilities, bullet could still fly. He and Dean may be good shots, but accidents could still happen.

"Hey, if I shoot you, I ain't feeling sorry for you!" Dean shouted after her.

Buffy paused nearly out of the library, her back still turned as she stood there a moment. Finally she glanced over at him, a sardonic smile plastered on her face. " ... I'd love to see the day." She responded in a flat voice.

Dean narrowed his eyes at the open challenge. Buffy held his stare defiantly before she wordlessly turned and walked away - for _real_.

The older hunter shook his head. " ... She is in _desperate_ need of a lay." Dean declared with feeling, sitting in the chair across from Sam. He scoffed. "Doesn't use guns ..." He was muttering just as much to himself, disdainful. "That's ... that's unconstitutional!" He finished lamely.

Sam stared at his disgruntled brother, completely unimpressed with him. "Free country, Dean." He said flatly. He shut down his laptop and pushed it away to the side. "And in case you haven't noticed, Dean, Buffy doesn't exactly like being told what to do." He pointed out, an edge to his voice.

"And why's that our problem? She's the one stuck in _our_ world." He argued incredulously.

"Yeah, I know. But we're not her _bosses_."

"Well, maybe if she stopped being a pain in the ass and listened once in a while, I wouldn't have to be!" Dean snapped instantly.

Exasperation was bursting out of Sam. He shook his head vigorously. "See? That's—that's why. That's why _all_ you're doing is pissing her off." He responded with vehemence, giving him a stern stare. "Quit telling her what to do, Dean. _Seriously_. Let it go." He warned in a final tone.

His older brother scoffed. "Yeah, like all of this is just _my_ fault. What about Hot Stuff, huh?" He said indignantly, scowling. "She's _bossy_ , as stubborn as a damn mule, has a line for _everything_ ..." He groused.

Sam felt no sympathy. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Not as much fun getting a taste of your own medicine, huh?" He muttered under his breath, looking away in annoyance.

 _"What?"_ Dean barked.

Sam looked back at his defensive brother exasperatedly, not the slightest bit regretful. "... Do you remember why me and Dad always fought?" He finally said, expression meaningful.

Dean stared at him hard, trying and failing to look strictly annoyed as the meaning struck a cord in him. Quick enough, he recovered. "What, so you're saying I have a stick up my ass?" He responded dubiously. Sam gave a scoffing nod. Surprise flashed across his brother's face, then turned incredulous. " _Hey_. _No_ , I don't."

Sam just stared at him. That wasn't even worth a response.

"I _don't_!" He reiterated more defensively, starting to become pissed now. Sam just raised his eyebrows meaningfully. Under his skeptical eyes, he could sense his older brother squirming as he searched for a much better answer. "I'm the _fun_ brother!" Dean at last said, sounding less than convincing.

Sam regarded him flatly and leaned closer to him over the table. "Glory days are over, Dean." He told him simply.

His brother still looked desperate to deny it, but this time a nerve had been struck. A sound of scorn escaped Dean, disgust and dismay clashing on his face and he just shook his head. After a moment of silence that seemed spent wallowing in shame, the other hunter composed himself. "The point is, she don't make it easy." Dean said sullenly.

 _"Easy?"_ Sam repeated incredulously. "You fight like an old married couple."

His brother shook his head vehemently. "No, no, no. Believe me, there is _nothing_ married in this." Dean declared, looking at him meaningfully.

"Great. Does that mean you're done trying to sleep with her?" Sam asked in all seriousness.

Dean paused, considering. Signs of a smirk twitched back and forth, trying to fight it's way to the surface. Finally he turned nonchalant and waved his hand. "Just tell me more about the case."

* * *

~~Buffy~~

"So ... that would be a _no_?"

Three college students stood before her. Two of them were girls, one a short brunette and the other a taller red-head. The other was a guy with short, slightly spiked dirty blonde hair. All of them young, all of them carefree, and all of them deeply confused.

"Look, we're not some Dr. Clarke guy's students. We're _Dr. Roberts_." The guy responded, frowning at her.

The red-head shook her head. "Mm-hm. I mean, we never even _heard_ of a professor here called Dr. Clarke."

The brunette elbowed her playfully. "Like we're so in touch with professors anyway!" She teased. She turned back to Buffy, slightly more serious. "He might be here. UIS is a big campus. I mean, we don't exactly keep track."

That wasn't too promising. Buffy sighed, scratching her head. "He's tall. Dark curly hair, glasses, Hugh Grant accent and has these like, really, _really_ green eyes. Kinda looks like a British Adrian Grenier?" When the trio just stared, she gestured with her hand for them to talk. "This bringing back anything? Maybe a flash?"

"Bring back _what_? We never had him!" The red-headed girl insisted incredulously.

Buffy pouted. "Not even the eyes?" She said in a small voice. Still, the students stared blankly and her desperation stirred. "Come on. You _have_ to remember the eyes." She wheedled, throwing out her hands.

"Look, lady. We don't have this Dr. Clarke dude. You got the wrong place." College Guy declared a little impatiently.

The blonde slayer took in all three of their ignorant faces and knew there was no hope here. _So mind-scrubbing. Just another notch off the Labolas belt._ She recognized ruefully. Sam and Dean had mentioned before no one seemed to remember a mysterious professor when they investigated. Everyone's minds had been wiped, just like these three. She had expected it, of course. Now she knew for sure.

The red-headed girl cocked her head. "Are you sure you aren't maybe still ... _on_ something? Maybe feeling side-effects? 'Cause, y'know, the parties here ... they can get pretty out of control." She told her in what Buffy figured she thought was understanding.

"Why'd you say you're looking for him again?" The brunette asked in bewilderment.

The slayer made an exasperated sound and rolled her eyes, looking away. She was literally drowning in all the ignorance. _Well, wasn't this whole thing just a pre-destined waste of time. Don't know why I always do this to myself._ Her and her stupid masochism.

"Nevermind. I guess I was wrong." She muttered sulkily, moving to leave.

"Hey, uh, wait!" The dark blonde guy's voice called her back. Buffy turned reluctantly. "There's gonna be a party over at the Delta House tonight. It's gonna loads of fun." The college guy suddenly mentioned. At the slayer's surprise, he hastily explained. "You just kinda look like someone who could use a little fun."

"You should really go. It's open to everyone." The red-headed student agreed, giving her a reassuring nod. "Maybe it might loosen you up?"

Weary dissatisfaction swept over the blonde. _Is there some kind of universal bulletin called 'All The Ways Buffy Is No Fun?'_ She thought in exasperation. That's all everyone seemed to tell her nowadays. She was irritated by the continued ignorance and at the same time upset that she really seemed that boring.

"There's also a bar just outside UIS, if you wanna hit that. College students here always go there." The brunette elaborated.

Buffy stared at the trio blankly. _Bars and college parties ... Maybe in my_ last _life._ The slayer thought dryly. She might've considered the idea if she was in a better mood, but after the waste of time that was _all this_ that was a big no.

"Not my kind of scene." The blonde refused flatly.

The blonde slayer walked through the campus, upset and feeling terribly bitter. For the past week and a half, she had tried harder than ever to find a way back home. Researched non-stop, dipped in some of Sam and Dean's other contacts, kept track of rumors. The scythe was still nowhere. Tracking Labolas—the wild card that risked her getting killed or getting information, then killed—was dumb. But he clearly knew _something_ about how she got here. Desperate times.

For the most part, all Buffy _really_ ended up doing was working jobs with the brothers. The first one had been monsters called ghouls. The second one in Chicago had turned out to be a ghost, which fueled her curiosity on ghost-killing passionately. It had been very educational. In general, neither had been particularly unpleasant. At least she was still slaying, as much as the outfits and the undercover irked the crap out of her.

Dean, however, was a complicated variable. He had impeccable talent in annoying her that nearly rivaled Spike's at one point. He was just so bossy and full of himself and had the capacity to be a real asshole. Not something she liked dealing with in her slay time.

Honestly anything _Dean_ made no sense to Buffy. He could be really sweet and charming one second, then angry and arrogant the next. Just when she thinks he might have depth, he either acts like an ass or totally squashes it with more stupid pick-up lines. They either got along really well or got along horribly with nothing in between. Their friendship was so volatile all the time it gave Buffy whiplash.

Ignoring Dean and her pitiful inability to deconstruct him, the cases had been somewhat therapeutic. But it was only a brief reprieve. The stress of not being home always crawled it's way back. It got too much again after the second case. That's why she was back here, checking it out while Sam and Dean did another job.

Buffy sighed. _What did I even expect to find here? A lead? Labolas is gone. I knew that._ She thought, frustrated with herself. This was not like her. It was no different than her and those books for two weeks, but the pressure of her Slayer Organization responsibilities and fear of the unknown kept urging her on.

What was the definition of insanity again? Doing the same things over and over and expecting a different result? That sounded about right. Well, that was her right now. Pathetic, right?

The blonde slayer's dismal mood weighed on her all the way out of the college. She couldn't help but think back on Castiel and the scythe. He hadn't contacted her since three weeks ago, even though he promised to help her. Her feelings were mixed on that to say the least. Something about their last trip still didn't feel quite right. She hoped he was still looking, but her gut instinct was still wary.

Buffy left behind UIS's campus, heading for the nearby bus stop to board with what little money she had left. Only knowing she was going back to her motel and uncertain of everything else after. So when she saw a familiar trench-coated figure standing stiffly at said bus stop, the blonde slayer's mind of abstract thinking blanked out entirely.

"Cas?" The slayer addressed with slightly wide eyes, surprised as she stopped in front of him.

Castiel nodded in greeting. "Hello."

Buffy raised one brow, her expression carefully neutral. Wariness was coming over her now. "Speak of the devil." She deadpanned.

The angel frowned. "Why?"

The slayer ignored it. She trained on him with a scrutinizing stare. "How'd you find me?" Buffy asked cautiously. She had tried to call Cas a few times these past weeks, hoping for updates, but he never answered. That might've been a small thing, but with her gut intuition that didn't help win her trust.

If Castiel sensed her slight distrust, he didn't show it. "Sam and Dean told me you were coming back to Springfield. I knew it'd be to investigate the college again. I just assumed I'd find you here." The angel explained.

Buffy crossed her arms. "And you, what? Were just gonna sit tight the whole time admiring the grim and gum-covered majesty of your average city bus stop?" The blonde said dubiously, incredulous. "Or you couldn't call? I mean, I know you century-old guys and technology are unmix-y, but you _do_ know how to work a phone, right?"

The angel stared at her steadily, unfazed. "I wanted to talk to you in person."

The sudden meaningfulness in his eyes broke through to Buffy. She frowned, her distrust leaving. "What's going on?" She questioned with concern. "Did you ...?" Noticing the cluster of people waiting at the bus stop, she grabbed Castiel by the shoulder and guided them further down. "Did you find the scythe?" She asked urgently once out of earshot, still holding his shoulder.

With a look of apology, Cas shook his head. "No, nothing like that. Zaphkiel's scythe is ... still lost." Unsurprised disappointment washed over Buffy and she lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"I don't need _sorries_. I need _leads_." Buffy said sternly. She held his stare a moment before thinking. "What about the other angels? Can't you get them to help us out?"

Immediate discomfort and complex pain filled Castiel's face, startling Buffy. "No, I can't. All of the other angels intensely despise me." He revealed matter-of-factly. He lowered his eyes. "I've done damage to Heaven in the past ... mistakes I'm still correcting. My reputation's too tarnished." He admitted ashamedly.

The slayer wouldn't accept that easily. "Well, it's still all _your_ scythe. Still has Heaven on the return label. Can't they get over their stupid grudge and just work with you for one minute?" Buffy pressed with a edge, throwing out her arms.

Cas shook his head. "Not after what I've done. Trust me."

Out of all the decent angels in the world, she just _had_ to get the one with the _worst_ transcripts. _What'd he even do that's so bad anyways?_ She couldn't help but wonder. Angels didn't seem too great here in general after hearing that earthquake story so she was afraid to imagine.

Her dismay obvious, the trench-coated angel looked at her guiltily. "I'm sor—"

Buffy cut him off with a sharp noise in her throat, pointing at him as she stared him down reproachfully. Her "little rule" still in place. Castiel paused, seeming confused a second before he remembered. He turned weary. " ... Labolas might be the one that has your scythe." He said resignedly.

The slayer studied him. " ... You think he brought me here with it." Buffy remarked coolly, carefully matter-of-fact.

The angel nodded gravely. "It would make sense. He did claim to know you were coming and tried to recruit you. Not to mention the entire encounter was ... convenient." Cas pointed out uncomfortably.

"That's _one_ word for it." The blonde said blandly. Her mixed feelings strong, she considered it. "So he sent me to this world with the scythe I need, spread the word about it until he finally reached little 'ole me's ears, then set up a fake scythe as a decoy to lure me out ... and then _didn't_ blackmail me?" Each part she thought out loud and it sounded solid ... until the last part. "There are _five-_ year olds more diabolical than that." Buffy concluded, giving him a skeptical look.

"He's arrogant. That's why he didn't bring up the scythe."

"That's just _it_ , Cas. Why wouldn't _he_ bring it up?" Buffy argued incredulously. "The scythe is the only thing that can bring me home safe. That should've been his bargaining chip ... but it wasn't." She went on seriously. "It's not arrogance. I mean, yeah definitely Mr. High and Mighty, but ... I dunno. He just seems ... smarter than that." She confessed uncertainly, frowning.

Castiel's expression turned hard. "I've known Labolas for a millennium. Mind games are in his nature. That and ego."

 _Demons change?_ Buffy thought weakly, still doubtful. She knew realistically that slayer intuition and ten years of battle experience had nothing on a millennium of existing as well as knowing the demon, but where was that realism when she was still unsure of Castiel's motives? Labolas' behavior and the angel's dismissive attitude confused her. She just didn't know what to think.

The slayer tried to shove aside her suspicions. " ... Maybe. _You're_ the one who's walking history." She acknowledged, uncertainty in her voice as she frowned. "All I know for sure is that he knows something. That's why I have to find him."

"He'll resurface. It's inevitable." Castiel declared with confidence.

The blonde slayer said nothing, expression impassive as sudden unease twitched in her. Flashbacks of their fight played in her head. As much time as she spend these past couple weeks pondering how Labolas knew her, even more time was spent not thinking about the eerie, rock-hard solidness in his voice as he spoke over her future and what's to come. Normally she just brushed it off. But something about how he said it ...

"Cas ..." Buffy began uncertainly. Immediately she stopped herself and shook her head "No, you know what? Forgot it. It's probably nothing." She brushed off as she waved her hand, slightly repugnant of her behavior. This was stupid and paranoid and ridiculous. What had gotten into her?

The angel's expression turned intent. "What is it?"

The small blonde hesitated. She very much regretted she said anything and just wanted to drop it, but by the look in his eyes he wouldn't. _Too late._ The slayer braced herself. "Before, in the ... fight ... he, uh, ... said something. That I had a 'dark future', wasn't going to make it out, stuff like that." She mentioned, avoiding his eyes uncomfortably. "It all sounded pretty—"

"Prophetic." Castiel made it sound less like a guess and more a fact.

Buffy raised her eyes, startled. She stared at him self-consciously. " ... Yeah." She agreed with great discomfort. The anxiety finally won out and she eyed him a bit worriedly. "Is it possible? I mean, was the demon reading my fortune cookie?"

The trench-coated angel paused, an unreadable expression on his face.

Buffy waited pensively. With her luck, the answer was yes. Buffy and destined death had always been something her world got a big laugh out of. Sam and Dean's world having fun toying with that same old song too honestly wasn't that much of a stretch.

Castiel sighed. "All the first demons had their own affinities, what set them apart from the ones after. Lilith, the first ... had unlimited power. Labolas' gift was foresight."

Her heart sunk a little inside. She stared at him in dismay. "He could tell the _future_?"

The angel nodded gravely. "There was a reason he was Lucifer's most prized general. It wasn't just his strategy. His visions of what came ahead helped the war Lucifer raged against Heaven in the past. Because of him ... more than one battle we lost."

The blonde slayer couldn't believe what she was hearing. "And you never thought to bring this up? Labolas, Hell's oracle? Oh, and by the way might have the skinny on whatever move we're gonna make? That just slipped your mind?" Buffy fired out accusingly.

Castiel seemed to be resisting the urge to shrink away under her glare. "I wasn't sure—"

" _Sure?!_ You were _there_ when he gave me the fortune teller speech!" The blonde slayer cut him off angrily. "You couldn't have even said _something_? 'Cause, y'know, possible prophecy of Buffy death? Kind of something I'd like to get a warning about!" She went on incredulously.

"Calm down."

Buffy scoffed. "Oh, so _sorry_ if my handle on doom and imminent death is inconvenient to you. Sure, lemme just get right on that." The blonde slayer said sarcastically, glowering at him bitterly.

"Let me explain." Castiel appealed. Reluctantly the blonde did. "It's not what you think. Labolas had visions, yes. But they were never in-depth. Just selective flashes of images. He also had no control over them. They were always arbitrary." The trench-coated angel told her seriously. "Whatever he saw of you, if he did see anything ... it must've been brief. You shouldn't let it concern you."

 _But you just_ said _he won battles with it._ Buffy couldn't help but protest, frustrated. Even if all he said was true, how could _not_ worry? She had a lot of bad luck with those stupid death prophecies. "Did you even tell Dean about this? Sam?"

The angel stiffened. Buffy knew the answer before he even said it. "No." He said uncomfortably. "I wasn't sure. Labolas has changed so significantly from who he was. I couldn't tell if his words to you were a prophecy or just arrogance." Cas told her in confusion, frowning.

Did he expect her to be satisfied with that? He should've told Dean and Sam about the visions, at the very least. Buffy shook her head in exasperation. "Did anybody ever tell you your decision-making skills really, _really_ suck?" She grumbled.

Castiel's eyes clouded. " ... Yes." He admitted self-consciously.

 _That was_ rhetoric _, but thanks anyway._ The blonde slayer thought, rolling her eyes. "I exhibit _no_ surprise." Buffy remarked with feeling, unimpressed. "Why did you think he _didn't_ have the visions? I mean, with the all those new extra-strong powers juicing him up ... it'd be kinda weird if lost the original model's."

"Even if I was wrong, sharing his power to all of you wouldn't have made a difference. Don't be too concerned." Cas responded evenly. Noticing the slayer's not entirely convinced look, he looked at her more meaningfully. "Labolas' visions aren't a constant. Nothing in the future is a certainty."

The blonde stared at him wearily. She knew that was absolutely true. She herself had proven time and time again nothing was truly destined. But something about this still unnerved her. Prophecies about her death or other bad things happening to her ... those tended to happen. She might find catches in them, but they still did.

It wasn't just that. Prophecies were one thing. Just a bunch of fancy words written on a rock or a piece of paper. Mental pictures of something coming, like actual flashes were a little bit different. She heard of Cordelia gaining this type of thing a while back and from what she had been told, most of her visions had been pretty solid. She may be the World's Number One Rebel in doing what she wasn't supposed to be, but even rebels with her record can get their number up.

Unsure what to think, the blonde covered up her emotions. She steeled. "Labolas promised a dark future ... _Oh_ , he'll get one alright." Buffy stated with more certainty than she truly felt. "Every one of these evil guys probably thinks _their_ demoralizing speech is some kind of prophecy anyway. Nothing new." She simplified, shrugging.

She wasn't sure if she made it apparent she was trying to convince herself just as much as him, but if she did the angel didn't show it. He watched her solemnly a moment, then gave her a small nod. Sounds of a bus starting distracted her suddenly. The slayer glanced over to see people boarding the bus. Her _bus_.

"I'll keep looking before Zaphkiel's scythe."

Castiel sounded resigned, but before Buffy could question it, she turned and he was gone.

The slayer stared at the spot he had stood with a frown. _Where does he even go?_ She wondered. Did he have a nice angel house or a quaint little condo? All thoughts were so weird for an actual angel that under different circumstance she would have snickered.

Shaking off the thought, the blonde looked back over at the bus. It was seconds from leaving and if she really wanted to she might've boarded it in time. Instead she stood there, watching it drive away wearily.

Beyond tired, the blonde shook her head and started down the sidewalk. " 'Dark future' ... isn't it _already_ dark?" She muttered.

* * *

~~Castiel~~

 _"Stop this, Naomi."_

Castiel stared down the red-headed angel in the familiar white room of his mind, his posture stiff and hostile. His glare on her was burning and uncompromising. "Stop making me tell all these lies to this poor girl!" He expressed in passionate disapproval.

His superior showed nothing but her typical self-righteousness and a mild sense of boredom. "Castiel, I've told this how many times before. _It is the only way."_ The female angel reprimanded matter-of-factly. "We need her. So work with her. Let her believe what she wants to believe. And when the time is right, we'll call on her."

The trench-coated angel just couldn't accept this. "Labolas is the threat. Us and the rest of Heaven might not know what's tainted him and turned into this creature, but this apocalypse is because of him. We should be working together. Not betraying one of our greatest assets with a maze of lies." He argued, harsh with disgust.

Naomi's eyes narrowed. "I remember a time lying was a second nature to you, Castiel." She suddenly said, startling Cas. "Don't you remember? Your broken oath of loyalty to Heaven? The damage you caused, the blood you spilled of our brothers and sisters?" The female angel mentioned coldly.

Shame flooded over Cas and he couldn't look her in the eye. _It was never broken._ He thought sadly. All he had ever intended to do was restore order to Heaven after the disorder Michael and Lucifer caused. Instead he nearly destroyed it. Became the Scourge of Heaven, betrayed Dean and Sam. He wanted to make up for both. Maybe some part of him did see Naomi as help, but the other part of him ...

"I brought you out for a reason, Castiel. Because in spite of everything you've done, _I_ gave you a second chance. You're here because of me." Naomi reminded him sternly. "We're both still on the same side. _Heaven's_ side. Don't lose sight of it now."

Conflict twisted inside the fallen angel. He just couldn't shake off his guilt at taking advantage of Buffy. While he fully agreed to make use of her in destroying Labolas, he didn't understand why that had to involve lying. He had felt sick inside taking her to the trip to Springfield and worse still in their last discussion. He had avoided mentioned Labolas' ability of foresight to her and the brothers as well as her possible doom ... because Naomi hadn't let him.

"I haven't lost sight. Protecting Heaven, stopping this apocalypse ... I'll do whatever it takes." The trench-coated angel replied unwaveringly. He shook his head. "But this is wrong, Naomi. Deceiving Buffy. If we just told her the truth, I know she'd help us."

"You know on what grounds, Castiel?" Naomi challenged sharply. "You barely know the slayer. You don't have any reason to trust her except your own naiveté." She pointed out with disdain.

The fallen angel said nothing. She was right. Cas couldn't say he knew her. She just aroused a feeling in him. A feeling he usually only got when around the brothers. Something about her fiery and headstrong defiance against the world even when all odds were against her reminded him of Dean and Sam. She had the same uninhibited independence. He could see it in everything she did.

But that wasn't what made him trust Buffy the most. The _ultimate_ reason.

" ... Sam and Dean trust her." Castiel said solemnly.

Naomi hardened. "And we can't trust _them_ , Castiel! Let alone their judgment."

Even with all the times Naomi had torn into his mind, that spark of objection every time he heard that still hadn't died. He narrowed his eyes. "Sam and Dean are the ones who trapped Lucifer back in the Cage. Without them, the world would've already died out. If we are to trust anyone, then they've already proven it."

"I admire your loyalty, Castiel. But that kind of passionate loyalty should be to Heaven, not to them. Even if you do consider them ... _friends_." His superior stressed 'friends' like she was choking on the word. "And yes, they might've stopped the Apocalypse. But they're also set the ones that set it in motion."

Cas was unintimidated. "And I'm the one that let the Leviathans out. But you still pulled me out of Purgatory and even recruited me." He pointed out, an edge to his voice.

Naomi didn't even blink. "You're different. You're one of us. _They_ aren't."

Castiel startled. He could hardly see how he was "one of them". He had caused more damage collecting souls and freeing the Leviathans than Sam and Dean ever did in their less unsavory roles in the original apocalypse. Naomi wouldn't even let him back in Heaven, controlled his mind and used him yet still sat here acting like he wasn't an outcast.

Recovering, the angel found his next words. "Sam and Dean stopped the previous apocalypses. I know they'll stop this one if we trusted them and worked together. And now with this girl on her side—" Castiel argued with certainty.

" _That's enough, Castiel_!" The red-headed angel cut him off harshly. Angry disapproval boiled in her eyes. "The Winchesters will have their own roles to play and Buffy, but without trust. That is all." Naomi declared matter-of-factly.

The fallen angel stared at her, protest and doubt mingling together. Cas sighed. "What about the girl? Why can't she be trusted?" He had already given up on Sam and Dean. He at least wanted to understand why Buffy made the list.

Naomi darkened. "You don't know her like I do, Castiel. She may seem innocent and trustworthy ... but it's for no cause of ours." The red-headed angel warned severely. "She has a habit of not doing what she's told. It wouldn't be the first time she's defied against the angelic higher power." His superior shook her head. "She's unpredictable and insubordinate and insolent. Useful, but within a certain limit."

The knowing and faint familiarity in her scorn bewildered Cas. He frowned deeply. "How do you know so much about her, Naomi? She's from an alternate reality."

The red-headed angel paused. "I know enough about her that as I might as well know her. Telling her everything will only end in disaster." She responded in absolute confidence, her blue gaze filled with meaning. "Just trust me, Castiel. Keeping Buffy Summers in the dark is for the best."

None of that answered Castiel's question, but something in Naomi's behavior struck him. Her limited knowledge over Buffy, as mysterious as it was, was more than his own. Somehow. While he did like the young woman, he couldn't help wondering if maybe Naomi's way _was_ the safer one. He didn't want to jeopardize Heaven's safety.

Conflicted and painfully uncertain, Castiel avoided her gaze. Indecision running through him. "Must it always be done with _lies_?" He lamented, his expression filled with weariness.

Naomi looked at him sharply. "Remember why you're here, Castiel. It's not for the slayer's whims or for pity." The red-head berated. "Buffy is a player in this upcoming war. That's what she is, that's _why_ she's here ... and all you should see her as." She told him with feeling. "This is all for the greater good. You, more than anyone, should know what that means."

Despite everything, he found his resistance slowly weakening. _What if she has a point?_ He wondered. He had sworn to himself to make up for his misdeeds and restore Heaven as well protect the people. Castiel knew that didn't always allow morality and sympathy in the "big picture". Was his sentimentality and respect of free will just getting in the way? What would he do if in the end he did trust her and all he'd be doing is destroying everything? _Again_?

Shame and deep pain pierced the fallen angel to his core. _No. I can't. Not again._ He thought desperately, holding onto that as the only thing keeping him going. He didn't want anymore rivers of blood from dead angels and dead civilians. Castiel couldn't allow that from yet another one of his mistakes. He didn't think he'd be able to survive the guilt.

Naomi studied him a long moment, her blue gaze intense and knowing of the inner turmoil. Silence passed between them and finally ...

"You are not human, Castiel. You're an _angel._ Angels follow orders and do what needs to be done. Not carry around bleeding hearts for lost girls." The red-headed angel reprimanded. "It's time you let go of those human feelings and remember what you really are: a soldier. No matter how much time you spent on Earth, no matter how often those Winchesters warp your mind ... in the end, that's what you'll be." She declared meaningfully.

Castiel raised his head uncertainly, thrown into a different emotional disarray as the words hit. He hadn't wanted to believe it. He rebelled against Heaven because he had believed in Dean and Sam and despite their mistakes in between, in the end they hadn't disappointed him. They had done the impossible. Stopped the Apocalypse. They taught him choice and even now he still admired that. But she was right. There was a part of him that still felt different. Out of place on Earth.

 _What is choice? Destiny?_ He wondered hopelessly. He had tried choice and it resulted in the decimation of countless angels. He had tried to be like Dean and Sam, but it turned into a mistake so great the brothers' own paled in comparison. Was Naomi right? Was he just a soldier, mindlessly controlled and manipulated even when he didn't know it?

Maybe his own choices were so terrible because it rebelled against his genetic make-up. Angels just weren't meant for free will.

Naomi's expression softened. "I know it's difficult for you, Castiel ... but I also know you know what must be done. I know you'll make the right choice." The red-headed angel assured empathetically. "Work with Buffy and the Winchesters. Keep them carefully under control. Crowley is still looking for the Angel Tablet and Labolas is dangerously close. Find it first. _Protect_ it. And remember, Castiel ... " The female angel's stare drew to piercing levels. "The Slayer and the Winchesters will be none the wiser."

Weighed down by guilt, self-doubt, and crippling fear of failure, Castiel found he could argue no more. He didn't want to lie to Buffy or to Dean and Sam. He wished there was a way he could share this with them and honestly help the slayer found her way to back to where she belonged. But expectations rarely followed reality and at that moment he felt it painfully.

He _had_ to lie. He had to follow Naomi's plan and use Buffy. He had to make sure he didn't create another scar on Heaven the way he did again. He needed to make sure the world survived Labolas and could still have people alive when this was all over. If that meant he had to do unsavory things and go behind Sam and Dean's backs, then so be it.

Castiel wasn't sure how much of this was him. He could still feel Naomi driving deeper and deeper into his brain, stripping away his will. Every day he was just a little less conflicted, every day a little less guilty, a little less resistant. Nothing around him felt truly real. The only thing he did know was one thing: protect the Angel Tablet and the world ... no matter the cost.

* * *

~~Faith~~

Faith Lehane walked up to Dunsworth Castle currently known as Slayer Organization Central, weary and fresh off a brawl from a nest of eight Separvo demons. A patrol of four other slayers followed: Kennedy, Nadira, Laurie, and Maggie. All of them had their own fair share of cuts and bruises.

"All these demons everywhere nowadays ..." Laurie muttered uneasily. She was young, no more than nineteen with delicate features, soft, dark blonde, medium-length hair and green eyes. "Aren't we supposed to be _vampire_ slayers?"

"Thinking a name change might be in order." Maggie commented, equally as unimpressed.

"Who bloody cares?" Nadira groused, her naturally harsh cockney accent sharpened with annoyance. "Demons or vampires, we slay 'em all. No need to get all literal."

Faith glanced over shoulder at the slayer. "Hey, Nadira. Lose the bitch 'tude. We already got clawed at." The older slayer chastised. Holding her stare sternly a second, the older brunette calmed and looked away. "Besides, girl's got a point anyway. Demons crawling all around the place and not even the daily vamp warm-up. The demon food chain's all kinds of whacked out."

"Well, that's great. We're cutting the vampire population down to size, more and more." Kennedy argued. Her eyes gleamed. "They're finally gonna go extinct." She reflected with triumph.

The self-satisfaction glowing out of Red's girl was so strong she didn't want to ruin it ... no, wait. She did.

Faith shook her head. "Nice glass half-full, _Cover Girl_ , but still gets the buzzer. It ain't happening." The dark slayer refuted with certainty, throwing out her arms. "There's always gonna be vampires. They're like cockroaches. Stomp on 'em and they keep comin' back." She described with disdain.

"Then why aren't they coming? We run into vampires barely now. Maybe twice a month. On a good streak!" Kennedy challenged.

"Yeah, in _Europe_. But in America? Still a decent mess of 'em. Got enough warm-ups out of them." Faith assured from experience. The dark slayer shrugged. "The vamps are probably somewhere just shaking in their boots. Too scared to come out and play in the new sandbox. The about-face messed them bad." She figured nonchalantly.

Nadira snorted. "Crawling under their beds and not able to have their fun? That's not extinct. That's _better_." She stated with feeling, scorn and satisfaction flashing across her face as they entered the castle doors. "Serves those unholy bastards right."

"Way I see it." Faith agreed distractedly, noticing a particular patrol of three slayers hanging up their weapons on a rack. She glanced back at her patrol and gave them a quick once-over, checking for wounds. "Laurie, Nadira get patched up. Maggie and Kennedy, you're good. Brief the deeds to Andrew. Meet me in the computer room in ten."

In a way Faith would never be used to, the respective slayers split off on her orders. The brunette slayer looked over at the slayers still lingering at the weapons wrack, frowning a second before she squashed back her doubts. "Hey. Girls!" She called, heading over to them hurriedly with purpse.

The girls startled, their attention drawn as they waited for the senior slayer. "What's the sitch?" She asked them immediately with particular seriousness, crossing her arms. "You find anything on B?"

Faith wasn't surprised by the looks on their faces. One of them—Baillie, she dimly recalled —shook her head regretfully. "No suck luck. Rumors of some small, super-strong blonde taking down a family of Gro'lax Beasts in Wales ... was just a vampire." The British slayer said ruefully.

Even though the older slayer had expected this, she hadn't wanted to hear it. Faith frowned. "But we heard the got chick trapped by 'em and everything. It was saving babies!"

Beside Baillie, a Irish slayer named Rowena with long, flowing red hair and freckles raised her brow. "Only because it _wanted_ the babies."

Disappointment settled on Faith. She had gotten the full account of Buffy's disappearance a little over three weeks ago. Chasing a vampire, portal, and then sudden disappearing act with no trace. A simple patrol like that, gone to hell so fast. Buffy had been missing a little over a month by now and each lead became only deader than the last.

Their first lead had been the vampire. The slayers and the Scoobies had investigated it before Faith even arrived in Scotland. They had figured the vampire had struck up some kind of deal with an evil witch or demon looking to take out the slayer, but it turned out the vampire was just lackey scum to some century-old vamp Edward Buffy dusted that same night. Everyone after that, particularly Willow and Giles, had been obsessed with identifying the magick of the portal and tracing it the culprit.

"Faith ..." Daphne, the third slayer, spoke up. She was African-American with her hair in a distinctive style of a skin-tight, braided ballerina bun. She was staring at her uncertainly. "Maybe we're never going to find her. She might be dead." The twenty-year old voiced, visibly uncomfortable but keeping her tone even.

The dark slayer narrowed her eyes, the defeatist and illogical attitude irking her. "She's not dead. Wil said the magick was some kind of portal to somewhere, not an attack. Red knows her stuff." Faith reminded her sternly.

Daphne still looked doubtful. "But it's been a whole month, Faith. At this point, how could she even still be—?"

The older slayer's scornful scoff interrupted her. " _Excuse me?_ B trained you guys and the other girls in some _serious_ ass-kicking. You _know_ how badass she is. One little month and you think she already rolled over?" Faith said incredulously. "If _I_ was B hearing you anchovies talk like that, I'd be pretty pissed. I mean, where's the respect?"

"Faith, we know _how_ tough Buffy is. It's just ... a month of nothing. It's not like a few days." Rowena suddenly spoke, surprising Faith as she backed up Daphne. There was regret in her eyes, but she didn't stop. "I mean, most missing people are quite often dead in a few weeks."

"What is this, _I.D_?" The brunette replied scathingly, a stern scowl on her face. "Here's the deal. A month isn't jack and screw you guys for giving up on B. Chick already didn't even know how to have a life before you and the other slayers came along. Give her a little credit. General-to-soldier respect here, y'know?"

Daphne sighed. "Right. General-to-soldier respect. Plenty of that with us." The black girl agreed tiredly. She lowered her eyes. "Maybe _too_ much." She muttered to herself, sounding drained.

 _You coulda fooled me._ The dark slayer thought, unsatisfied. Faith was not one of Buffy's best friends, but they achieved some kind of even ground after the battle with the First. They were friends or Faith considered them friends, at least. That's why the younger slayers' cynical attitude on Buffy's fate pissed her off. They didn't even seem that torn up over it.

Faith wasn't oblivious. All was not in well in Slayer Central. The U.S military declaring war was an obvious reason why (this month a group of slayers finally had run-in with the soldiers in France and it had gotten pretty bloody). Bitterness was with all the slayers, especially the American ones that felt betrayed, being banned from their own country. But Faith could read situations enough to know it was more than that ... and had a pretty good idea what it was.

 _Buffy._

Buffy was the Slayer Organization's general, but now that the blonde slayer was absent things were starting to show for what they really were. Plenty slayers respected and admired her. Most had the sense to direct their resentment where it belonged which was toward the military and not Buffy. Still, there was real miscommunication and discontent over Buffy's leadership, no different if not worse than with the First years before: treating them strictly as soldiers. The slayers acted too interpersonal over Buffy to be anything else.

The first sign of it had been two years ago. Faith had formed a specialized branch of the Slayer Organization in Cleveland to help troubled, more problematic slayers like she had been. Her "slayer social worker" gig lasted maybe six months before Buffy finally freaked and ordered them back to Scotland, "no arguments", claiming it was too dangerous with the military gunning for them.

None of the slayers were keen to go. Faith had been incredibly pissed off with Buffy herself at the time, seeing how the "slayer social worker" stuff had been helping her get her life back. One of their famous scenes erupted and ended with her losing the slayers anyway. Faith stayed in Cleveland more to spite Buffy than anything and it took some time before she finally understood her decision.

So no, Buffy's tangled mess that she called leading an army was of no surprise to her. The chick did everything in extremes and frankly sucked connecting with people, even when she always had the best of intentions. She would've understood the distance the slayers felt over their general with how much Buffy was an overbearing hardliner except Faith knew she couldn't help it. She had issues. Anyone looking at Buffy could see that.

Letting the slayer's behavior go, Faith went back to the topic. "Did you already go through Satsu and B's friends about the search mission bomb?"

Baillie nodded bleakly. "We just came back. They know."

The brunette absorbed that pensively. She knew, out of everyone, the old Scooby Gang were taking another dead end lead the hardest ... and she was about to meet up with them. Weariness struck her at the thought.

"Okay, so just ... chill. We need anything, I'll call you. I'm busy. Got a fun little meeting on my hands." She told them lamely, not without reluctance.

The slayers nodded agreement.

"You're the leader." Rowena responded blithely.

Faith's eyes widened, uncomfortable and more than little freaked at the casual comment. Her expression hardened. " _Buffy's_ the leader. I'm just the chick going halfsies with Satsu in the hot seat 'till B comes back to kick my ass out of it." The brunette said severely, meaning loaded in her voice.

The three slayers stared at Faith, unsure how to respond. Finally they thought better to say anything and walked away, leaving the older slayer alone at the weapons wrack.

Times like this Faith really wondered what the hell happened in this last month to get her in Scotland bossing around Buffy's wannabe slayers. She supposed it was somewhere between her coming to Scotland to help search for Buffy and the younger slayers asking for seniority advice. Even the combined efforts of Giles, Willow, Xander, and Satsu (Buffy's best slayer by far) wasn't enough to fully organize them.

So ... enter Faith. The ex-con, high school drop out, and former psychopath that blew it once before with the potential slayers a couple years back in the battle with The First ... but seniority, right?

The dark slayer sighed and shook her head. She was _still_ not "in charge" chick. After three years since Sunnydale, she had just gotten her life together guarding the Cleveland hellmouth and even parts of that had been pissed on by the government slayer crap and her friend Angel biting the dust. It hadn't been easy.

Somehow she was still the automatic choice when Buffy for whatever reason wasn't available, even with hundreds of the slayers in the world. Nothing she could do about it. She couldn't just say screw it and leave Satsu, particularly skilled out of the new slayers, to this abyss of responsibility. She was still too inexperienced.

 _Goddamn, B. How do you do this?_ Faith thought, frowning deep. All these slayers, all these responsibilities. She had barely any time to herself and that was _with_ Satsu sharing the load. She couldn't imagine what the full brunt must be like. And Buffy's been dealing with this for _three_ years?

With a massive lack of enthusiasm, Faith walked deeper into the castle. As usual it was bustling with so many girls and so much activity it almost made her queasy. It had so much open space and yet still felt claustrophobic. She headed on the higher levels, twisting in several turns until she finally saw the doors to the Giles' study.

Tired and bracing herself for more depressing, Faith sucked in a breath and opened the door.

The whole gang faced her inside. Willow and Xander were interrupted mid-conversation with Giles, who was sitting at his desk. His desk was in an even more cluttered condition than the last time she saw it. Copious amounts of scrolls, books, and notes were all the eye could see on it. Dawn was a slight distance away, leaning against the bookshelf with her arms crossed and her head down.

They looked at her. Only Dawn didn't raise her head. No one spoke as the brunette slayer walked deeper into the room. Tension and highly-charged emotions of worry, unease, and uncertainty pierced the air. Faith couldn't help but feel a bit intimidated. "Gang's all here ..." She remarked in forced nonchalance, trying to break the ice. "Where's my co-pilot?"

"S-Satsu is, um, ... strengthening the castle's defenses. Assessing border patrols on look-out." Giles explained wearily.

"So Lucy Lui's got it covered. Points for her." The brunette slayer pointed out, still trying to act cool. "Looks like I got the good part out of this." Faith deadpanned, more than a little sardonic as she crossed her arms.

"You mean Faux-Buffy the friendly neighborhood vampire baby-eater? Already got the nightmares." Xander responded drily.

Faith forced a shrug. "Hey. You win some, you lose some."

"Great philosophy! Here's the more catchy one: 'lose some, lose some'." The black-haired man replied sarcastically, bitterness in his voice. "We finally think we got a lead on Buffy and it turns into crazy vampire baby-eater. The pendulum of disillusionment is swingin', folks." He said with feeling, throwing out his hands.

Willow gave her friend a weak smile. "Hey, it wasn't all bad. At least it _wasn't_ Buffy. Y'know with the being dead and a vampire and ... cradle-robbing." The red-headed witch offered awkwardly, losing her smile as she realized how not comforting it was.

Xander threw out his hands. "Silver lining, Wil. Shining. I see it." The black-haired responded sardonically. He covered up his only eye with one hand, leaving only his eye-patch. There was a pause. He made an mocking impatient gesture with his hand. "Any time now." He deadpanned, still covering his eye.

Giles sighed. "We've expended every resource at our disposal. The Resource Team, covens, sightings, possible culprits ..." He described bleakly, cleaning his glasses anxiously. "And there is still ... no sign of Buffy." He finished wearily, putting his glasses back on the bridge of his nose.

" _She isn't dead!"_ Willow rushed to say, panic and desperation in her voice. "The magicks ... I-it was a portal. I-it took her some place. I saw it, Giles. Whatever did it wanted her alive, not dead." The red-headed insisted, stammering against the strength of her feelings.

The watcher nodded. "Something took her. At least if it would go to that much trouble to capture her ... Buffy may still be somewhere safe." The older man theorized tiredly.

Xander was pacing. "I hate this! I hate not knowing. Buffy could be in trouble and we're standing around doing nothing." The one-eyed man ranted, throwing his hands. He snapped his fingers, pointing at them. "Let me tell ya, only the 'all-powerful' demon club could pull crap like this. The fancy, smancy portal stuff's gotta be limited edition. How hard could it be to find the _Copperfields_?"

"Quite a bit, I'm afraid." Giles replied resignedly. "Demons of that specific ability are rare, elusive. Finding any and tracing it to this could take months ... or _longer_." The older man went on in a strained voice, pain in his eyes as he avoided their stares.

Faith watched uncomfortably, sympathy for them and her own worry for the blonde jutting through her. "Maybe it was a spell. Some scum got a hold of something and sent B to a hell dimension to get her out of the way." The dark slayer suggested.

"Great. Buffy stuck in a _hell dimension_." Xander responded scathingly. He smiled bitterly. "Real estate with blood, monsters, torture and a nice Tim Burton scenery."

Faith shrugged. "Just keeping the 'faith'." She deadpanned.

" _Hell dimension_?" Dawn spoke for the first time, staring at them in alarm. "There's like a, gajillion of those things. How are supposed to know which one it is? What if we don't get there in time?" The young woman asked as she walked up to them, talking faster as her voice cracked with pain.

Overwhelmed at the despair on the girl's face, the brunette slayer backpedaled. "Guys, hey." Faith cut in more insistently with a frown, waving her arms to calm them. "Say B _is_ in a hell dimension. So what? She's _B_. Built for slicing up Hell's minions. She ain't gonna kick the bucket just like that. We got time."

Everyone looked at her uneasily.

"That is, _if_ she is in a hell dimension. To say 'sparse knowledge' would be rather in the realm of an understatement." Giles pointed out skeptically.

Willow frowned. "It didn't ... _feel_ like a spell. I tapped into the remnants of the magicks where she disappeared, y'know, to try to figure out where it came from. And it felt ... _innate_." The red-headed witch frowned deeper and shook his head. "It's more than that though. The energy. It was ... vomit-y."

"We _all_ taste the vomit, Wil." Xander responded empathetically.

" _No!_ " The red-head cried. "I mean, yes there was a little magick aftertaste, but it's _different_!" She argued, her awkwardness swallowed by vehemence. "It was like there was a disturbance fragmenting the energies. Like it didn't _belong_." Willow explained, sounding bewildered.

"So hell dimension?" Xander offered as he threw out his hand, uncomprehending.

The witch shook her head. "That's the thing. I don't know what it was." The red-head replied in easy honesty. "The vibe was just ... _really_ all over."

Dawn looked worried. "But it has to be a hell dimension, right? I mean, what else could it be?"

Faith had to agree with the brat. Willow's magick signal might have been a little fritzed, but they could've easily been because of the _dimension_. It was probably obscure, deep, and dark. Concern twitched in the dark slayer. She wasn't free of worry over Buffy trooping it out in a dangerous hell dimension either, but she knew she couldn't be dead, at least not in a month. She was too good.

Giles sighed. "Something very strange is happening ... beyond Buffy, I'm afraid." The watcher remarked resignedly. All eyes turned to their mentor with new concern. He shoved scrolls and notes aside, revealing a stone slab of rock.

"The artifact?" Willow exclaimed, a spark of curiosity in her eyes.

The older man's gaze on them all was grave. "Every since ... since Buffy vanished, I've been working extensively on this tablet in case there is any connection. I've looked into the history of the area it was found and not a single civilization matches this one's language. It's old. Older than civilization."

A pause as the meaning sunk in.

" ... Oh. So not an artifact then." The witch responded lamely, trying to act casual.

Faith eyed the watcher in disbelief. "You haven't translated that piece of rock? Aren't you watchers supposed be like the _Omniglot_ or something?" The brunette questioned incredulously, less than impressed.

Xander brightened a bit. "Yeah, like _C-3P0_! The 6,000 languages. Hey, you even got the posh voice and stiff posture." He observed lightly with a weak grin, pointing at the older man.

Heavy exasperation colored Giles face and shook his head, removing his glasses. "Xander ... _do_ shut up." The watcher said with feeling, cleaning his glasses.

"Right. Shutting up."

Easily bypassing Xander, Faith focused on the matter at hand. "So what's the big deal with the brain block? Tablet falling into the freak zone?"

Giles put his glasses back on his nose. "It's supernatural, undoubtedly. The language, i-it resembles no human language or any demon's. Buffy believed it to be a sign of something shortly before she was taken ... and I'd come to believe she was right." The watcher deduced grimly. He shook his head. "I-I can't say if it's connected to her or what it means ... but I believe it was found for a reason. " Giles declared earnestly. "It's important it's translated. I _will_ figure it out."

The dark slayer was grim at the information. Was it just a coincidence that a squad of slayers found this thing and brought it to Giles just a few months before Buffy disappeared? She didn't know what the hell was going on anymore, but it was worrying. _I sure as hell don't think that thing's gonna be anything good._

"And we can always count on a mysterious supernatural relic to be the answer to all our problems." Xander commented sarcastically, deep skepticism etched on his face.

Willow patted his shoulder comfortingly. "There, there." She sounded less than convincing, uncertainty of her own in her eyes.

"What if does have something to do with Buffy? Will we finally found out what happened to her?" Dawn questioned a little desperately, her voice wavering as fear and hope battled in her blue gaze.

Giles studied the young woman a long moment. " ... We can hope." He said softly.

Dawn didn't look comforted and lowered her eyes. The heavy sadness hanging over all of Buffy's friends that quelled but never quite left pushed to the forefront again. Faith tried to lighten it. "Rock on, G. Get the down low on that rock. Know you'll get it right in no time." She encouraged nonchalantly.

"I have this idea ... in looking for Buffy." Willow suddenly mentioned, a note of hope in her voice. "I can do this really powerful locator spell. I mean, it'll take a few more days and I still need to get in the tune with residual energy Buffy got whisked with and maybe use a few of her things, but once I get the essence? I'll be able to see where she is." The red-head explained, sounding more and more sure.

Giles looked wary. "Powerful as in ...?"

"Oh, no! Not 'sacrificial lamb' powerful! Life-threatening free. Really." Willow clarified a little panicky, sensing the silent question as she nodded her head firmly. "It's just really time-consuming is all. I've been working on it for weeks since Buffy disappeared." She confessed. The witch smiled cheerfully. "Just a few more days and it's _'Ready, Freddie'._

The watcher turned thoughtful, mulling over her words. The witch's eagerness finally won him over and he gave a small smile. "Well, Willow. If I were to believe in anyone's capabilities for something like this ... I would believe in yours." Giles responded admiringly.

Xander wrapped his arm around his best friend's shoulders. "The witch who has everything." He quipped with a smile, giving her a quick half-hug.

"You can do it?" Dawn asked, cautious with hope.

The red-head turned somewhat uncomfortable. "Well, it's not like a 'take us there' spell or anything ... but it's a pretty good start? We'll at least know where Buffy is ... what happened to her. No more ... out of the know-y." Willow said modestly, clearly abashed.

Faith shrugged. "Hey. Like you said, it's a start. The rest we'll just run with." The brunette pointed out with ease, feeling significantly better. The sooner they figured out where Buffy was, the sooner they'd know how to bring her back and that's all that mattered to her.

"I still can't believe Buffy's been gone this long." Dawn mentioned in a low voice. "What if we do find her and she's ...?" The young brunette broke off, raising her head as she blinked away tears. "I can't believe that stupid fight would be the last time I talked to her." She stated, frustration and pain in her voice.

"Oh, Dawnie ..." Willow began sympathetically, going over to young woman and hugging her tight. "Buffy's not dead. She's gonna be somewhere, alive and still frisky. You'll see." She reassured empathetically, tone soft and gentle.

"She'd die probably thinking I hate her." The brunette muttered self-loathingly.

"No, sweetie. No." The red-headed cooed as she held her head, compassion and dismay in her eyes as she tried to comfort the girl.

Xander nodded, making a noise of agreement. "Yeah, Dawn. Even if she _is_ stuck in a hell dimension ... all those monsters lining up to get the taste of the Slayer? Nothing for our little Buffster. She'd just feel right at home there." The black-haired man declared optimistically, throwing out his hand.

Dawn pulled away from Willow, looking over at Xander who gave her an encouraging smile. After a moment, she nodded.

Sympathy at the controlled but still present distress in Dawn's pulled at Faith's heartstrings. She didn't know crap about what went on between the two sisters lately, but she knew how much Dawn loved her and that Buffy wouldn't want to see her like this.

"Don't sweat it, kid. Big sis's gonna show up, raising hell and kicking my ass out of her special chair before you know it." Faith remarked casually, a good-humored smirk on her face as she waved her arm dismissively.

Despite how cavalier she sounded, Faith had no doubt at all would Buffy would arrive less than thrilled seeing her lead all the slayers. Satsu might soften the blow, but that had always been her hot button. Truthfully though, she wouldn't mind a bitchfit. Just to know Buffy is alive and having everything back the way it was was enough. Buffy leading, Faith unattached.

All would be right in the world.

* * *

~~Dean~~

The case had been quick. Him and Sam were in Ohio hunting a witch cursing the rich around her neighborhood. They had gotten tossed around for a good while until Sam delivered the fatal shot and killed her. They got the hell out of the town as fast as possible and were on their way back to Kansas, holed up in a Illinois motel for the night to recover.

Dean felt like crap, had bruises and cuts from broken glass (most on his back), and had a long past couple days so did what he usually did to let off steam after a hunt: find the cheapest nearby bar, drink, mingle, and whatever the hell happened from there just roll with it.

The Winchester downed a shot, sitting at the very front of the bar. Five more shots were in front of them, most of them full and two empty. He had been here for about an hour and other than some waffling and flirty conversation with the fairly attractive brunette bartender, it was a slow night. So far the only thing he really had going was a good buzz.

Dean continued his shot drinking. By the third one, he was definitely starting to feel it. With a vague plan developing involving ordering and finding a way to rassle that brunette back over, he went to work on his remaining shots. He was just reaching for his last one when something caught his eye. He instantly forgot the shot and in a very deja vu manner, turned and looked over deliberately.

At the very far end of the bar in a dimly-lit booth he only even noticed because of the splash of blonde ... sat a solitary Buffy Summers. The only company she had was a glass of water and a plate of curly fries.

Surprise struck Dean. He knew she had been going back to Springfield to check out the college, but he hadn't expected to run into her, least of all here. Dives like this were more his kind of thing. Technically where he had first seen her was a bar not much better than this, but still she just seemed like the kind of girl too good to be caught dead here.

Dean tilted his head, an easy smile on his face as he looked Buffy over. While it didn't suit her, the surprise wasn't an unpleasant one. No matter how much friction they've been having recently, the hunter had to admit he was growing fond of her. She was definitely one of his guilty pleasures.

Buffy had her eyes on the table, one arm propping her head up and the other preoccupied playing with her fries. She seemed subdued, focused on nothing really and lost in her own little world. A sad pout was on her face.

All flirtation drained out of Dean. Something was up. Making a decision, the hunter downed the last shot and walked over.

Dean slid quietly inside the booth on the side across from her. Buffy didn't even notice him, eyes glued to the table and fingers still absently toying with her obviously uneaten appetizer. Her curly fries were tangled together in elaborate combinations and starting to get stacked up in a manner indicating she'd been at this a while.

The Winchester stared a moment, testing how long it would take for her to actually notice him. She still didn't and at that point he concluded whatever was worrying that pretty bottle blonde head was a lot more than nothing.

"So are you gonna eat that or just ... working on your food art?" Dean deadpanned.

Buffy startled, eyes flying up as she saw him at last. She immediately froze, her hand still in the fries and stared at him wide-eyed. Dean couldn't tell if it was out of mortification or shock. She snapped out of it and quickly withdrew her hand, leaning back in the booth as she took him in incredulously.

"... And now my day is complete." The blonde slayer said flatly.

She was clearly not happy to see him. Dean shrugged nonchalantly. "What I'm here for."

Buffy looked resigned. "What are you doing here?"

"Just taking a little stop on the way back. Me and Sam wrapped up a case." Dislike at the reminder funneled through him and he forced a bitter smile. "Witches. _Fun_."

"A 'little stop' that just so happens to be Springfield, the town you knew I was at." The blonde responded pointedly. "Why do I get the feeling that's not a coincidence?" She questioned in a hard tone.

Dean scoffed. He didn't know if she was accusing him of coming to Springfield to keep an eye on her or catch her alone, but either way he felt the same. "Get over yourself, sweetheart. It _is_. I'm just here for the shots." The hunter clarified, an edge to his voice.

The blonde slayer's only response was an eye roll before looking away.

Despite Buffy's attitude, the Winchester could definitely see it wasn't at a hundred and ten percent. "So while I'm here ... what happened?" When the blonde just looked at Dean, he went on. "You're not here alone in a dive like this for the cheap hops and greasy food. This place does not serve your kind." He said matter-of-factly.

Buffy mulled his assessment over maybe for a second, then raised one brow and tilted her head in easy agreement. Dean knew his girls.

The blonde hesitated, eyes lowering to the table as the upset look came back. Dean waited, uncaringly starting to dig into her fries. " ... I couldn't find Labolas. He's gone." Buffy admitted wearily.

Dean was quiet. He couldn't say he was surprised. He knew from personal experience with Sam the trail had gone cold. He hadn't liked of the idea of her going. The trip just didn't seem worth it. But he knew after weeks of nothing and staying cooped up that it was something Buffy needed to do so he let her go without a fight. In his perspective, she might find something or she might not but she at least needed to try.

The hunter nodded. " 'Course. He wasn't gonna leave a trail from the same place if you found him out. He'd have to be pretty damn stupid."

The slayer sighed. "Definitely not stupid. _Me_ , on the other hand ..." Buffy went on tiredly, trailing away. Frustration flooded her eyes and she shook her head. "I don't know what's wrong with me. If I actually thought about what I was doing for one second ... The whole thing was delusional." The blonde lamented.

Sympathy pulled at Dean. This whole alternate universe thing was clearly taking a toll on her. It was hard to see her so stressed. Especially that face. With the pouty lips and the sadness swirling in her very expressive eyes, Buffy looked like a legitimate kicked puppy. One look from that and no man could survive it.

"You tried. That's gotta count for something." Dean reassured. "Besides, after the way your fight with him went down, that demon's got an agenda. He ain't done. He's gonna show sooner or later." The hunter felt more uneasy as he said this, but tried to hide it. They just _really_ needed to figure out how to kill that thing.

"And he may be targeting me. Goodie. I always wanted a nemesis from an alternate universe." The slayer said in distaste. "After all the vampires and the demons and the Hell-Gods in the _'We Hate Buffy Club'_ , I really needed that splash of variety." Buffy remarked in chipper sarcasm.

"Well, good thing he's not really your problem. Me and Sam gotta deal with it." The Winchester answered casually. He took another handful of her curly fries. "As soon as we find a way how to gank the bastard." He added in a mutter, shoving the fries in his mouth a second after.

The blonde slayer didn't look satisfied. "He knows stuff about me. That makes him my problem."

"Hey, he's the one causing trouble in our world, not yours. You got the _easy_ part out of this." The hunter asserted meaningfully. "With you, he's ... he's just your fan." Dean couldn't help but mock, smirking.

"My fan who may or may not know why _this_." Buffy gestured wildly to her surroundings, him, and then her. "Me. Here. Talking, breathing alternate air, is a thing. He's Mr. All-Know-y and Mr. Can't-Be-Killed-or-Beaten-For-Information. Not apocalyptic granted, but a nice existential crisis. I feel the nihilism." The blonde said blithely, nodding.

Dean stared at her blankly. He had met and been with many women in his life and Buffy was not like any of them. She was too quirky to wrap your mind around. All his experience with girls and somehow this one kept inventing new ways to throw him off.

"You are one weird chick." Dean said with feeling. Damnnit though did Buffy know how to flare up his curiosity and boy, did she work it. She was like catnip in a pretty blonde bottle. Even though she strained his brain, he kept coming back.

Buffy shrugged. "I get that a lot."

"Ohh, I _bet_ you do." The Winchester agreed even more meaningfully, shooting her a look.

The blonde slayer sighed. "The Labolas thing ... it's complicated. Cas has this neat little theory. That the demon has the scythe I'm looking for and used a different one at UIS to lure me out. He's really pushing that _'He brought me here'_ card." She frowned. "I don't know. Maybe. But it just ... doesn't feel _right_ somehow."

Dean thought about that. He could believe it. At the same time though, he could see what Buffy was saying. If this Labolas was intelligent, then he certainly wouldn't have passed up the chance to manipulate her into working with him. But he didn't know enough about Labolas to judge him one way or the other.

"Yeah, that douche is big on the cryptic. We'll get dirt on him later. Right now all we can do is keeping looking for him." The Winchester told her calmly, keeping his own discontent over the whole Labolas thing in check.

Buffy stared at him uncertainly. She seemed suddenly hesitant. " ... It's more than that." Buffy said in a sigh. "Apparently Labolas is practically quarter seer. He gets these visions of things before they happen."

Out of everything Dean had expected, it certainly hadn't been that. All smokescreen calm crumbled. "You telling me he can see _future_?"

The blonde nodded painfully. "Mostly just a random mental picture every once and a while, but still ... y'know."

The Winchester couldn't believe what he was hearing. "So this is his next great hit. Visions. Like, _freakin'_ visions." Dean said incredulously, his tone getting harsher.

"Your buddy Cas gave me the history lesson. Labolas the Terrible. Full-time Hell general, part-time Hell oracle. It's true." The blonde replied resignedly.

He hadn't thought it possible, but that shook him up even more. "Wait. Labolas had the flashy, vision crap even _when_ he was the _M. Bison_ of Hell ... and _Cas_ told you this?" The Winchester responded disbelievingly. He sure as hell hoped he heard wrong, because if not ...

The slayer looked weary. "Nice drop of an anvil, huh?"

Dean pulled back, startled. No way he heard that right. It didn't make any damn sense. "What the hell kind of demon of ours can just _tell_ the future?" He barked.

"The second demon ever, apparently. He's _special_." Buffy answered a little bitterly, mockery entering her voice. "First demons I guess just have all _kinds_ of their own different perks ... but you probably knew that."

Dean could only stare, mouth twisted in outrage. Every part of him rejecting it, but knowing denial was useless Finally he blew up. "Cas knew about this ... and he didn't tell us? He could've given us a heads up!" The Winchester burst out incredulously.

"Well, he wasn't all that sure he still had it. The visions thing. Y'know, because of all those upgrades."

" _Crap_ _excuse!_ " Dean snapped severely, scowling. He was _pissed_ now. He couldn't believe Cas didn't tell him this. Tell _him_ , at least. The hunter was less angry over the fact Labolas even had visions and more upset over Castiel not confiding in him.

The slayer shrugged. "According to our very own _Cassiel_ ... it wouldn't have made a difference anyway. 'The future is flexible', 'Labolas didn't get 24/7 visions', 'Crystal ball shelved until the holidays', yada yada. No worries." Buffy clarified with little energy, looking unimpressed herself.

"Really? _Hakuna Matata_?" The Winchester said scornfully. "Well, what if Labolas got a sneak peak of all our moves for him and we didn't even know it? What then, huh? _Three Little Birds_ still gonna be playing in the background?"

" _No_ one needs a Bob Marley song." The slayer replied with feeling, expression meaningful. "Trust me, I'm not a fan either. I already gave Cas a hard time about it. We can't deal with this demon _and_ keep secrets from each other."

 _Yeah, you got that right._ Dean was fuming. Maybe under normal circumstances he might not have been as angry, but Castiel's been shady and hiding things from them ever since he got back from Purgatory. He didn't know what the hell was up with his friend, but it was _really_ starting to get him now.

One thing was for certain. Whatever Buffy said to Cas was going to be _nothing_ by the time Dean got through with him.

"And that's why ... there's something else you need to know about." The blonde's words sounded like it was being dragged out of her.

 _God, now what?_ The Winchester was so bitter and weary at this point. He was not ready to hear anymore weird Cas stuff, especially if it was even worse. Maybe because he was scared to know what it meant.

Buffy, with a very obvious reluctance, carried on. "In my fight with Labolas ... he told me I had a pretty dismal future. And I know. Evil and their ego. But ... the way he said it ... " The blonde trailed off uncertainly, frowning as she shook her head. "It sounded like he _saw_ it. My future. Like ... something _bad_ was going to happen to me."

Dean, who had fully been bracing himself for unsettling Castiel news, was completely thrown off by this. "What, he brushed off that crystal ball just for you?"

"Sounds like." Buffy answered ruefully, looking weary. She sighed. "Honestly, I don't know. I figured I was just freaking. Then Cas started talking about vision stuff ... and strangely? Not big on easing my fears."

The Winchester studied her intently, keeping his expression unreadable as he saw the worry in her eyes. He was silent, reflecting on her words and the situation as a whole. He wasn't even sure how he felt at first, but when he did figure it out he had no doubt.

"... So if Labolas _did_ sell you a vision of doom. You'd just believe it?" The skeptic in Dean was strong.

Buffy gave him a long look. " ... I'm sitting at a cheap bar stuck in a different universe for some reason talking to _you_. Do I _look_ like someone who finds a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?" The blonde slayer pointed out, bitingly matter-of-fact.

The Winchester thought about that and made a face of agreement. Couldn't blame her for that one.

Composure back, Dean shook his head. "I don't buy it. Yeah, maybe he got a vision. Maybe he didn't. Either way it don't matter because Labolas is still full of crap." He stated with feeling, serious. "You can't _really_ tell the damn future. I don't care what glue he's sniffing. He's just trying to scare you." Dean declared with certainty.

Did the possibility of Labolas seeing all their moves in vision, even if he didn't get them a lot, bother him? Of course. Did Dean take that as concrete evidence whatever he saw was absolutely _going_ to happen? Hell no. As far as he was concerned ... whatever Labolas saw of her, if he even saw anything, Buffy should do the same.

Buffy still didn't look entirely convinced, but his confidence seemed to comfort her. She didn't appear quite as uneasy as before. Dean smiled, feeling a bit accomplished. He still needed to take it a little farther though.

The hunter glanced around the bar. His eyes landed on the pool table. An idea came to mind. Dean smirked. "Now that _that's_ settled ..." He announced casually, rising and sliding out the booth. "We could be doing things a lot more fun than decrypting _Dr. Who_."

The blonde narrowed her eyes slightly. "Define fun."

Her meaning was obvious. Dean had to smirk again. "Well, I was thinking game of pool ... for starters." The hunter answered smoothly, unable to hold back that last innuendo. Buffy raised a skeptical brow, though looked more amused than annoyed. "Whatdaya say? You up for it?"

Even though he played it cool, the offer came from a place of sincerity. Dean was trying to take her mind off Labolas for at least a second. He still stood by the belief Buffy needed a little fun, whatever kind it was. Sure, a part of him _might_ be hoping things could go a little further than a pool game ... but he wasn't going to push it. The cards were in her hands.

Buffy studied him contemplatively. A small smile played her on her lips just for a second. "Fine ... but _I'm_ the one breaking." She said, maneuvering out of the booth and towards him.

Dean smiled, nodding in pleasure. "There's my girl."

Reacting to his still more than friendly tone, Buffy shot him a meaningful look. "But this _isn't_ a date."

The Winchester wasn't discouraged. " _No_. No, I do _not_ do dates." Dean agreed, shaking his head. He actually wasn't exaggerating by much. He didn't usually label alone time with a hot chick a real "date". He saw it as more of a mingling. The warm-up to the _good_ part.

The blonde slayer rolled her eyes and started to head over to the pool table, but paused and turned to look at him. "And I'm not sleeping with you." She asserted bluntly, pointing at him.

Dean stared dumbly, taken aback. Buffy raised her brows meaningfully. The hunter just answered with a resigned look. Their silent conversation came to a close as the blonde slayer smiled brightly and walked cheerfully to the pool table.

Dean watched her go. _Well, there goes all my hopes for the night._ He thought, having expected it but still disappointed. The hunter really wondered what it was about him that made Buffy reject him so much. It wasn't like he was looking for commitment. How much longer would she keep turning him down?

Rolling his eyes, Dean followed after her.

* * *

~~Faith~~

Willow was situated on the far end of the table, getting set up. The former Scoobies were huddled in front of the witch, struggling to conceal their anticipation. The red-head had declared her locator spell ready and immediately they all met in the boardroom. Xander, Giles, Dawn, even Andrew.

Tensions were high in the castle. Faith had been shouldering the antsy slayers for the past few days, trying to keep them busy. They did border patrols and helicopter missions as normal, but everyone was on edge since that military incident in France. Faith was doing the best she could with it, but it was clear the bitterness in the slayers was getting harder to control. Buffy couldn't have disappeared at a _worst_ time.

Leaving Satsu to organize and lead patrols, Faith was back with the gang and hoping against hell Buffy was somewhere alive and reachable because she wasn't sure how much longer she could take all this.

Willow raised her head, surveying the group meaningfully. "Okay. It's ready. Just the ritual and ... we should be able to see her."

Tense silence slashed through the group as any and all scenarios passed through their minds. Apprehension was on every face.

"Do it." Giles spoke, grim and soft as he nodded resignedly.

Willow nodded back worriedly, clearly feeling the full brunt of every possibility too. "You guys might wanna step back for this." She warned the Scoobies sans Faith, who were all standing a little too close. After a moment, when everyone obeyed, the witch took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"Goddess, Hecate, hear my prayer. Keeper of the crossroads, keeper of doors. Give us your sight." Magic started to crackle the air. "In absence, in cost, we offer a fragment of the lost." Among the objects in front of Willow, Buffy's brush (thick with blond hair) floated high in the air. Blue energy started to built around the brush. Suddenly Willow's eyes opened, black. "Illuminate the way to lost warrior! Illuminate the barrier!"

Her tone took on a manic, passionate speech, like he it didn't belong to her. Faith was uncomfortable despite herself, watching it.

Willow soldiered on. "Illuminate the way to the lost warrior!" She repeated intensely. The blue energy gathered more and more around the brush, crackling and sizzling. _"Show us!"_ The witch shouted in pure determination.

Energy was bursting. The brush disintegrated in mere seconds. The magicks spread and spread above them, forming a large and sloppy oval.

Dawn was the first to act. "Buffy?!" She exclaimed, immediately running over behind the witch to get a good look. Everyone else stumbled after her with nearly as much haste. Willow stood still as stone in the chair, eyes still dark.

Faith stared into the ball of energy intensely. It was just blue, moving back and forth like the delicate waves of a river. Very faint shapes were starting to appear inside, but the energy was too murky and erratic to make out.

"Well, Wil. I guess we should really thank Hecate for watercolor picture. A little blurry in some areas, but—" The energy shimmered suddenly in mid-Xander mockery and the eye-patched man gaped. "—if Buffy's perfectly okay and having the time of her life?!" He said incredulously, utter surprise on his face.

In the middle of the energy, a blue-tinted image had appeared. Buffy was chalking up a pool cue of all things. Indeed, the slayer appeared perfectly unharmed. Her attitude was casual and relaxed, an easy smile on her face like she was actually enjoying herself.

"Pool? B's playing _pool_?" Faith was blown away.

Giles was frowning deep. "Is she in a bar?"

Andrew looked a bit impressed. "Gosh, that's one scary hell dimension. Filled with nothing but seedy bars in the squalor." He commented in his typical dramatic voice. He shook his head, frowning. "God, all those health code violations ..."

"Buffy's okay!" Dawn exclaimed in relief. Immediately she frowned and turned to the group with confusion. "Why is Buffy okay?"

"Uh, Wil ... I think there was a little glitch in _Mirror Mirror_ here." Xander declared as pointed to it, glancing back at her.

Willow's eyes returned to their green irises. She was gasping to catch her breath. She shook her head. "No glitch. I felt the connection. That's where Buffy is." The red-head sounded just as bewildered, but not uncertain. She stood up slowly. "The magicks should hold for a little while longer, so at least ... huh." The witch said lamely, staring at it with bemusement.

Giles was the epitome of incredulous. "Buffy's been missing a month. Why would she be at bar, of all ...?"

The image shimmered again, spreading out in a wider angle. The blonde was definitely in a bar and true to Andrew's conclusion, a cheap one. But what caught Faith's immediate eye was who the slayer was with. It was a guy. An older, very sexy-looking guy Faith probably would have half a mind to sleep with if she had the chance.

"Must have something to do with the attraction." Faith deadpanned, nodding her head.

Buffy and the man were interacting, talking and smiling with each other with a casualness that only came with familiarity. It looked far from a captive situation or even some random guy she met in the bar. Buffy actually seemed to be having fun with him.

"Who's the Calvin Klein model?" Xander said incredulously, pointing at the man.

"I'd say more _Han Solo._ He's got the rugged look, with the scoundrel grin and the perfect balance between lean and muscular ..." Andrew said as he looked at the man, sounding increasingly enamored. Noticing everyone looking at him, he clammed up. "Just an observation. Obviously." He finished as he crossed his arms, avoiding their eyes.

Giles shook his head, taking off his glasses and cleaning them nervously. "I-I don't seem to recognize the man ... p-perhaps _he_ has something to do with Buffy's disappearance?"

Faith scoffed. "Yeah. Playing pool and chatting up a hunk. Total hostage situation."

"Yep. She's really jonsing to get away from _him_." Dawn mumbled just as skeptically.

The more Faith stared at them (more so the hot guy), the more she noticed. The man was very focused on Buffy, giving her these little looks and smiles as she talked. The mystery hottie seemed interested in her. Buffy was hardly as obvious, but a flash of a coy smile or a lingering look told Faith it wasn't completely one-sided.

For just a moment, the slayer forgot every single thing that was wrong with this. _Score, B._ Faith thought, faintly impressed. To have a guy looking like that into you? The brunette would kill right now to be her.

"He's a _man-witch_!" Xander suddenly declared vehemently, swinging his arm and pacing. "An evil man-witch!"

Giles gave him a tedious look. "Warlock."

" _Warlock!_ An evil warlock!" Xander said, still just as passionate. He stood in place, turning back to the group. "Mr. Pretty Face here pulled a love whammy. Scrambled Buffy's brains. Made her run off with him and forgot all about her friends."

"With a portal?" Willow asked, unconvinced.

"It could happen! A desperate single man is not above dipping into the dark arts. Especially a _rejected_ man. Everyone remember Love Spell Xander, the one-day heartthrob of Sunnydale?" Xander countered, giving them a meaningful look.

Faith looked back over at the energy and gave the stranger in it a quick assessment. Tall, older, well-muscled. Total pretty boy. "I dunno. He seems like Buffy's type." The slayer commented, nonchalant.

Xander still had a fired up look in his eye. "Oh, yeah? Well, you know what I say to that? I say ...!" The black-haired man's vehemence, which had probably been more of front than anything, suddenly vanished. He shook his head in defeat." ... You have _gotta_ be kidding me."

"Wait. So she just ran off with this ... mysterious stranger? Without even telling us?" Andrew connected the dots, frowning at his friend. "You think Buffy could do that?" The nerd actually sounded hurt.

"B-but the portal! Something took her away ..." Dawn was desperate to deny it.

The eye-patched man met her eyes steadily. "Yeah, something probably did. But she doesn't look like she's in any _rush_ to get back, does she?" Xander nodded pointedly back at the image, this time of Buffy about to pocket a ball.

 _Is he for real?_ Faith thought in shock, staring at him. She shook her head, frowning. "Hey, hold on. I didn't mean—"

"You can't possibly be thinking—" Giles protested at the same time, indignant.

A crackling sound interrupted them. The image of Buffy and her pool game was rapidly shrinking. It disappeared just as the blonde slayer hit the ball, leaving that last picture in their mind. Everyone quieted, staring at the spot it had been. All of them feeling like they finally found Buffy, only to lose her again.

Xander sighed, regrouping. "Look. I know you all hate me for saying this as much as _I_ hate me for saying this ... but we hafta get to the real here." The black-haired man began resignedly. "There's a big, ugly can of worms in this. We ignored it, waiting for it to all just go away and look what happened."

"Well, why don't you enlighten us?" Giles responded drily, his expression hard.

The young man was serious. "We all know Buffy hasn't been the bottle of pep she used to be. Not since applying for Slayer Organization general."

Faith perked up, surprised. Though from the increased tension in the air and the apprehensive looks passing between the others, she was the only one that was.

Giles looked uncomfortable. "Buffy has been under a bit of pressure ..." The watcher admitted, though there was a clear 'but' coming.

Xander didn't wait for it. His one eye widened incredulously. "Giles, she's been _drowning_. Between the military and slayer micro-managing, Buff had to go from 'Buffy' Buff to Robo-Buff. She let all that responsibility completely take over her life. Buffy's been busting at the seams, for three years, hoping we wouldn't notice ... and we _let_ her."

Faith was stunned. _Buffy's been that messed?_ As soon as that question left her thoughts, her surprise withered. If Faith was feeling the pressure with a second-in-command and just a few weeks leading, then Buffy must've been crumbling. Honestly, if the blonde wasn't such a goody-toe shoes, she would've skipped out long before now.

"But she-she's our leader. A hero. The mighty princess forged in the heat of battle ... filled with power, passion ... courage to change the world. With strength surpassed only by the power of her heart ..." Andrew rambled on, though sounded genuinely wounded.

"But she's still just a person ..." Willow murmured sadly.

"That's just it, Wil. She hasn't _been_ a person. It's just all 'Slayer' in the driver's seat. For _three_ years. I'd say that hollows out room for a whole new _slew_ of emotional problems, don't you think?" Xander said pointedly. "The point is, it's getting to her. She's been shut down, shutting us out, all her old tricks. So what does Buffy do when she doesn't want to deal?" He said meaningfully.

"Bury herself in slaying?" Willow offered weakly.

Xander was solemn. "She _runs_. Away from the problem, away from everything ... and tries to forgot it all with the first thing she sees." The black-haired man declared matter-of-factly. He pointed to where the energy used to be. "What if _that's_ what this is? Can't juggle Slayer Organization stress anymore? Hasta. Enter Dreamboat, the convenient."

"But Buffy would never do that!" Willow argued with feeling.

"But that's what she _does_ , Wil." Xander didn't sound angry or accusing, just matter-of-fact. "At least when she's in a bad place. She's done it before. That summer in L.A ... after she was brought back ... her thing with Spike ..."

"WE'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO MENTION HIS NAME!" Andrew's high-pitched wail suddenly screeched. Anguish was on the nerd's face at the mention of the vampire, shaking his head repeatedly.

Giles took off his glasses and cleaned them, looking utterly exasperated and tired. "Be that as it may ..." The watcher began flatly, pointedly not looking at Andrew. "I find it rather hard to believe Buffy would leave behind _hundreds_ of slayers, whatever personal—"

"Me too." Xander agreed quickly, startling everyone. The young man looked weary. "But it's been a _rough_ three years for her, Giles. Buffy can try to be the bottling champ as much as she wants, but eventually it's gonna go somewhere." His expression became meaningful. "Everyone's got a breaking point ... even Buffy."

"She wouldn't leave." Dawn suddenly declared, absolute confidence in her voice. "It's Buffy. She'd never do that. Like, she literally _can't_. Not even in her. "

Xander stared at her unreadably, not saying anything a second, then gave a weak grin. "Yeah, you're right. Crazy talk. I mean, Buffy'd never just leave all her friends." He remarked particularly cheerfully, throwing out his arm.

Dawn's eyes steeled. " ... She'd never leave the _slayers_." The young brunette said in a hard tone.

Silence passed as everyone stared at her, not knowing what to say. The slayer's sister met them harshly before looking away.

Faith frowned incredulously, overwhelmed by all the drama and Buffy's ass-up relationships. First the slayers, now the Scoobies? _God, B. Is there any mess you didn't leave behind?_ She'd been mostly out-of-the loop a while on the personal front. Walking in into all this now was a lot like visiting ground zero.

Needing to salvage the situation (and frankly tired of the Scooby BS), the dark slayer acted. "Guys! I was only playin'. Come on. _Buffy_? Choosing fun with a good-looking guy over getting her duty on? In _what universe_?" Faith said incredulously. "Nah, B's too girl scout. It's gotta be something else. A spell or-or amnesia, _something_. There ain't _no way_ B would just bail." She stated with feeling, shaking her head and frowning.

Giles sighed, rubbing his forehead. "We should get the Resource Team on this ... try to identify the man accompanying Buffy. If w-we get a name, we may ..."

"I don't know, Giles. Something just smells really funky." Willow expressed, shaking her head with doubt in her eyes. "There was this moment in the ritual, when the connection passed. Where Buffy was ... it felt so ... far away." She admitted, frowning deep.

"So Buff hopped an express out of the country of haggis and man-skirts. I always knew she never liked the _Clan Gregor Pipe Band_." Xander joked.

"So she's ... what? In a different country or something?" Dawn asked, her arms crossed.

"Out of Europe, perhaps?" Giles suggested expectantly.

The witch shook her head. "Mnh-mhm. More like ... out-of-time-and-space." The red-head looked just as confused by her own description as everyone else. "Kinda like connecting to a hell dimension, but not."

"Buffy's not in a hell dimension." Xander said.

"Oh! Thought!" Andrew suddenly cut in excitedly. "Buffy's in an Earth-2, like _The Flash_ in issue 123 when he met _Jay Garrick._ Or a twin world, like with _Wonder Woman_ and _Tara Terruna_ in issue 53 when everything was the same but with all different concepts and stuff. _Really_ cool." The nerd smiled wide, drowning in all his enthusiasm.

Everyone stared at him a long moment. Andrew's smile started to falter.

"Andrew. You know I really hate to crush all that wide-eyed wonder, but there's comic books and there's life. Please, for the _love of god_ ... choose life." Xander stated meaningfully, practically begging.

"Wait a minute." Willow suddenly uttered, a thoughtful frown on her face. Realization lit her eyes and she smiled excitedly. "Andrew, you're a genius!"

Andrew, who had been looking like a kicked puppy, stared at the witch in amazement. "I'm a ... genius?" He responded shakily, emotional.

Xander turned to his best friend sharply, disapproving. He gave a tight-lipped smile and made a show of being patient. "Wil ... we talked about this. _Don't_ encourage him."

" _No!_ _No!_ He's right!" Willow was bubbling with energy.

"You aren't seriously buying into this dweeb's babble, are you?" Faith said incredulously.

"No." Giles stepped forward, clarity building on his face. "Andrew may be on to something ... which I shall pretend I never said." He remarked, mild mortification in his voice. "Alternate realities _do_ exist. We've come across them before. And yes, many of them _are_ hell dimensions ... but quite a few are not." He said thoughtfully.

Xander stared at him, processing. He snapped his fingers in realization. "World Without Shrimp!" He suddenly exclaimed as he pointed at him.

Giles frowned deep and gave an awkward tilt of his head. "Well, p-perhaps not as ... puzzling, in this case. But that is ... _one_ of them." He admitted uncomfortably.

"At least we can cross out the world of Nothing But Shrimp." Dawn remarked casually, shrugging her shoulders.

Faith scowled at them. "What's with the shrimp?"

"Vamp Wil! _Thirdspace_! Oh, now it's coming back. Puzzle, it's a-piecing!" Xander went on passionately, overcome with hindsight. "Are we back in multiverse territory here?" He asked as he pointed at the watcher, looking at him meaningfully.

"Well ... if-if we are to go by Willow's reading ..." Giles contemplated wearily.

"It makes sense!" The light-bulb above Willow's head was still in full affect. "That's why the connection felt so distant, and-and the weird magick remnants from the cemetery? None of felt like here. 'Cause Buffy isn't here. She's not here at all."

"So Buffy didn't skip out. She's just living out all the twists and turns of _Star Trek's_ _'Mirror, Mirror'_." Xander stated, sounding a bit concerned.

"We're the _USS Enterprise_ and they're the _ISS_." Andrew responded dramatically. He frowned. "Except the guy Buffy was with seemed kinda nice. Maybe he's like _Lieutenant Moreau_. " He mused, looking intrigued.

" _Hey_ , the odds of Buffy finding the one _Moreau_ —"

Growing annoyance plagued Faith. "Can we lose the nerd talk already?!" The dark slayer snapped impatiently, glaring at the both of them. "How about get to part called 'Why the Hell Buffy's Even There?' "

"Thank you, Faith." Giles said pointedly, giving Xander and Andrew a look. He sighed. "It's hard to say. Someone sent her there, clearly. Why ... I suppose only Buffy would know the answer to that."

"If Buffy's just in a different world, why isn't she back?" Dawn asked.

The watcher mulled that over thoughtfully. " ... Perhaps she can't be. Either she can't get whoever sent her to sent her back ... or maybe the act itself. Not every alternate reality is easily accessed ... or escapable. The process may be delicate. I imagine something must be getting in the way."

"So we help her. Get her back home." Xander asserted in an instant.

"Question. How?" Faith cut in bluntly, throwing out her arm. "Ain't this a multiverse thing? How the hell are we supposed to pick apart the one universe B's chilling in with one seedy bar shot?"

"Well, we'll figure it out! Find a way!" The black-haired man shot back sharply. "Wil, she'll ... do something. Snap her witchy fingers, open a portal or ... something. Buffy'd be witchy-wooed all way down the yellow brick road." He gestured wildly at said witch. "Right, Wil?"

Willow looked unsure. "Well, I don't exactly have a link to the world ... so that's a little bumpy. But I-I think I can figure it out, with a lot more tapping and ... maybe a few spirit quests?" The red-head thought out loud, frowning. Suddenly her 'Resolve Face' was in full swing and she nodded. "So, Buffy's got a _Glinda_!"

Faith couldn't help but still feel a little worried, but one look at Willow's face and she knew it was all good. She smiled a bit. "So Red's the big gun. Alright. But we should still keep looking. Maybe there might be a little artifact or two to zap B back."

Giles was cleaning his glasses frantically. "We have to research counterculture dimensions first ... the ones closest to ours. I may know of a few secret niches the Watcher's Council left behind as a fail-safe. Any vestige of information left in there may help." Putting his glasses back on, he looked over the group meaningfully. "Buffy is not in any immediate danger. For now, that's what's important."

Willow nodded resolutely. "I'll dive in, big-time. Maybe visit the Astral Plains again. Look into more world stuff ... I'll make like a nice, little Rolodex!" She told him, smiling and cheerful towards the end.

"I'll help look stuff up. I've always been really good at that." Dawn promised earnestly.

Xander clapped his hands. " 'Kay! So we got a plan. A _real_ plan. And here I was just getting used to that empty, slippery abyss feeling." The one-eyed man said jovially. He turned his attention to Andrew, walking over to him. "Andrew ... and this will be the only time I ever say this ... thank you for your nerd brain."

"Buffy says thanks!" Willow added helpfully.

Andrew looked ready to burst with pride. "I can tell you a lot more theories about parallel worlds. Y'know, to figure out what Buffy's dealing with. Like maybe it's Stephen King-style or more _Dr. Who._ I mean, multiverse is my jam. Ever since I read _Final Crisis_ —"

Xander watched his babble with an increasingly strained smile. "Comic on, my friend." He gave a quick nod and immediately back away from him.

Andrew, once again, was oblivious. "I swear, I'm really gonna help you guys! There's so many multiverse theories I've read. It'll help with the research and stuff. I can definitely figure out where Buffy is." The spaz sounded so enthusiastic and eager Faith might've found it cute if she wasn't so irritated.

"Much ... appreciated, Andrew." Giles responded ruefully.

Andrew did a little bounce. "Uhhh, this is _so cool_! Buffy's in an actual different universe! It's like Earth-1 and Earth-2! Awesome!" He spazzed out excitedly. Suddenly the nerd frowned and he groaned childishly. "Why didn't I get to go?" The dark blonde whined.

"Oh, I think we're _all_ wishing you went." Faith muttered.

"That's like my dream ... visiting the _Elseworlds_. Sigh." Andrew went on wistfully. He shook his head. "Buffy needs to tell me everything when she gets back. Every single detail and idiosyncrasy ... I gotta feel like I'm there. Man, she's so lucky." He lamented, crossing his arms and pouting.

Finally the dark slayer had it. "Cool it, Poindexter. This isn't a comic book, or a field trip. B's stuck down there." Faith barked out, walking over to him. "So instead of spazzing out, how 'bout you hit up the Resource Team? Y'know, for _real_ alternate reality information?"

Andrew frowned. "But I-I wasn't done talking about my theories ..." He protested meekly.

"Go get the Resource Team on this right now or I'm about to fire your ass." Faith said uncompromisingly, her expression hard and stern.

The nerd looked like he was about to argue, but against the real threat in her eyes he just sighed and uncrossed his arms. "Abuse of authority. Buffy would never do that ..." He grumbled, reluctantly starting to walk away.

Faith snorted. "Buffy's not here. _I_ am. You keep on whining, I might just kick you to the curb anyway."

Andrew glanced at her petulantly before heaving a heavy sigh. "Buffy was a lot nicer ..." Faith heard the nerd muttering as he headed out the door.

The dark slayer stared after where he disappeared, shaking her head. "Man, that spaz grates! Why the hell do we still have him?" She exclaimed incredulously.

"He clings tight and doesn't let go. _Ever_." Xander remarked humorlessly.

Willow smiled softly. "Still, he kinda grows on you. Like a fungus." The red-head quipped, affection in her voice.

Dawn looked slightly defensive. "Hey, he's not all _that_ bad. At least he figured out where Buffy was. We _never_ would've thought of that."

"Proof every evil-fighting crew needs a nerd." Xander declared good-humoredly.

"Yeah, cookie for him." Faith mumbled reluctantly, arms crossed and scowling a bit. "Any chance I can fire his ass anyway? B won't mind, would she?" The dark slayer queried, only half-joking.

"Oh, she'll mind. Might take some time, say five to ten years, but she'll mind." Xander answered just as half-joking, nodding.

"He has his uses ... unorthodox as they are." Giles admitted awkwardly.

Rolling her eyes, Faith tried to plan and prioritize. "I'm gonna assemble the wannabes. Let them know Little Miss Tightly Wound's just got her hands tied." She decided reluctantly.

"Are you gonna tell them about the universe part?" Willow asked curiously.

Faith gave her a look, thought about it, then shrugged. "Guess I'll find out." The dark slayer responded nonchalantly. She started walking away. "I'll get Satsu on the up and up, then the big ice-breaker. You guys start on the research thing. B's gonna need it." She said with surprising authoritativeness, not looking back at them.

That said, that whole grand-standing and speechifying thing with hundreds of slayers eyes on her?

Never got easier.

* * *

~~Buffy~~

Turned out that bar suggestion by those college kids had actually been a go.

In theory, anyway. They hadn't gave her the place's name. There had been two nearby bars. One had been thriving with young people and while Buffy had a strong suspicion that was the one, she chosen the less busy one. The slayer hadn't felt like watching a bunch of college-y types having all the fun she _wasn't_ having right now. Naturally this place was a cheap dive and not exactly The Bronze in Sunnydale ... but hey, it went with her mood.

Of course though her time of wallow and reflection had to be broken by a surprise crash of Dean. Buffy had tried to avoid company. But her conversation with Castiel had been knawing at her so when the hunter started being nosy, she humored him. She hadn't known what'd she get out of it, but he was easier to talk to than Cas. Surprisingly the hunter actually had made her feel a bit better.

The pool game was a nice escape. It fed her competitive streak and competitive check meant forgetting. She got the stripes and Dean the solids, pocketing one in the breaking shot. Buffy didn't play pool often and scarcely even remembered the last time she did. Dean, on the other hand, played with a ease that told her he did this a lot. But with her trusty slayer senses, she was _so_ taking him down.

"So ..." Dean began casually, starting to move into position. A teasing smirk was on his face. "When's the last time you ever had any _fun_?"

The question bothered Buffy. She tried to play it cool. " _All_ the time. I mean, I-I travel a lot now. There's some nice European restaurants. And Scotland? Great scenery. I checked out this abandoned castle a little while ago ... overrun with ... demons, but the architecture. All that demon blood and innards really brought it out." Buffy rambled, trying a little too hard to sound satisfied. "It's been ... fun. I had a lot of fun."

"Yeah. Demons, innards, and landscapes. What a blast." Dean responded amusedly, eyes still on the game. He snapped his stick forward, hitting the cue ball. It barreled into one of the solids, disrupting a few before it landed into his pocket on the middle-right. Dean looked at her and smiled.

Buffy narrowed her eyes slightly, irked, but returned to the conversation. "Okay, so not so much fun. I've just been ... really busy. With the slayers and the demons and the ... General Custer shtick. Mostly it's been hack, slash, train, organize. Rinse, repeat." She admitted reluctantly, frowning. "So no, no fun. Slaying of fun."

The burden was heavy on the blonde slayer even though she hid it. She had poured her _soul_ into these slayers. She had devoted herself to them for three years, sacrificing any free time and relationships, and for what? To see them get branded terrorists? To _die_? Buffy had lost three years of her life and she didn't even know if it had been worth it.

"Head of an army of _Charlie's Angels_. That bad, huh?" Dean's voice dragged her back, smiling sympatheticaly as he readied his next shot.

 _You don't know the half of it._ She thought cynically. Not that she was going to talk about that other half. _Definitely_ not.

"... The brochure was better." The slayer deadpanned, giving a small shrug. "But it wasn't like I really had a choice. The slayers had all these new abilities and didn't know what to do with them. They didn't understand their power or who they were ... or when _not_ to abuse it. So they needed a leader. A cause." Buffy said solemnly.

She had lost count how many times she told herself that, just to justify why she was still here with these slayers. To stand against the military no matter what they threw at them, no matter how many slayers died or what happened. Ever since L.A. though, that sense of righteous was slipping. Buffy wasn't so sure anymore if any decisions she made were right. Everything was so screwed up.

The small slayer sighed. "So that all lead to moi. _Ripley_ the Vampire Slayer." She finished wearily as she gestured to herself, the humor forced.

"Son of a bitch."

Surprised at the unexpected response, Buffy frowned over at him. Dean was glaring, watching his shot fail miserably as he hit the 8-ball and got just a little too close to his designated pocket. The slayer couldn't but smile, enjoying it.

Dean pulled back and straightened. He stared at her a second, lips pursed. He pointed to the 8-ball. "You know, that's all your fault." By his attitude, you would think you were talking to a twelve-year old rather than a grown man.

Buffy rolled her eyes, then gave a sardonic smile. "All part of the plan. Now it's _my_ turn."

The hunter was still put out, but nodded reluctantly. As Buffy started chalking up her pool cue, the Winchester softened a bit. "You're not a _Ripley_. You're way too hot, for one. Sigourney Weaver ... _grody_." Dean said with feeling, shaking his head and shuddering a bit towards the end.

"Not a fan of the wardrobe or the hair, but she was kinda cool. The way she killed all those aliens and sacrificed herself to blow up the Queen?" The blonde said casually.

"Oh, she was badass. Made our own damn weapon, for god's sake." Dean agreed instantly. He tilted his head and smiled at her. "But you ... you're a cute badass." He complimented, an undertone of affection in his voice.

Finishing up with the pool cue, Buffy turned and smiled at him. "I always thought so." She commented brightly, satisfied. Realizing the conversation they just had, she suddenly frowned. "Isn't it kinda weird we have the same pop culture references? I'm not even _from_ this place."

The Winchester started at that, frowning in deep confusion. He shook his head. "Buffy ... We go down that road, we ain't coming back." He warned her, overwhelmed.

 _Don't question it. Got it._ The slayer mentally noted. At least not any of her pop culture jokes would go to waste here.

Their game of pool raged on. Both of them were actually very good. Considering one was a slayer and the other hunter and both were trained in perfect aim, the challenge they gave each other shouldn't have been surprising. It became quite clear to Buffy Dean was just as competitive as she was which only upped the stakes and motivated her more.

Dean, for his credit, played dirty. He used different kinds of techniques he had probably learned all these years playing pool. A lot of them she didn't even know. They were just illegal enough to look awful and just legal enough to still keep him in the game. It frustrated Buffy immensely.

Despite the competition, the mood remained casual. They fell into an easy rapport with each other. Buffy realized then that when Dean wasn't actively being insensitive or coming on to her he was actually easy to talk to.

"So how long have you been, y'know ... _G.I Jane_ for these other slayer chicks?" Dean suddenly asked, looking over at her curiously.

They were down to about three and three, evenly matched. It was Buffy's turn and she was in position, eyes glued to the balls as she mentally assessed the best angles. "Three years. Kinda four, I guess, depending on how you look at it." She answered distractedly, thinking of her stint with the potentials.

Too focused to clarify, the blonde took her shot. In a flurry of movement, she hit her mark and curved the ball as it landed in her pocket. Satisfaction filled Buffy and she straightened with a smile. "You know, I think I'm getting good at this." She remarked proudly.

Dean was unimpressed. "Yeah, well. Don't get too excited. I'm not gonna go easy on you just 'cause you're a hot chick."

"What would be the fun in that?" The blonde responded playfully. Dean smiled despite himself. "The Slayer Organization thing is still kinda new. It used to be just the Scooby Gang. Me and my friends, beating back the monsters and any other wacky going on that day. And a _lot_ less on the international travel. More like small, one-horse town."

"You stayed in one town?" The hunter sounded surprised.

"Sunnydale was a really weird town. Things always happened. A lot of people died. Which made _sense_ ... built under a Hellmouth and all." The blonde explained casually. At Dean's frown, she clarified. "Mouth of Hell. That's what it means. It's a mystical portal. Lightning rod to basically anything demon-y. A real _Mad Monster Party_."

The Winchester nodded slowly. His expression was a bit grim. "Hmm. Sounds like hunter paradise."

"Lived the dream for seven years." Buffy replied dryly, weary as the memories rushed over her. She didn't _really_ miss Sunnydale. Not _really_. There were enough horrors there to last her a lifetime. But sometimes ... it just seemed like those days had been easier. At least back then she knew what she was dealing with.

She was back in cue stick position, readying her next shot. Though she tried to remain focused, her mind suddenly felt farther away. "It was a whole other world then. Buffy and the Scoobies, stuck in Monster Mash Town." While she tried to sound casual, the wistfulness was too difficult to suppress.

The Winchester looked baffled now. "Wait. Are saying ... did you name yourselves after _Scooby-Doo_?" He asked slowly, like he couldn't comprehend it.

Distracted, she hit the ball a little too hard. Buffy's eyes widened. "Ooh!" She exclaimed in alarm, watching as it sailed over the table and right in the direction past Dean towards a group of people at the table.

The surprised hunter reacted and caught it just in time. There was an awkward moment of staring. Dean gave his best unimpressed look. He casually threw the cue ball up in the air. " ... Well, looks like this ball's mine." He deadpanned, catching it in his hand.

Buffy's annoyance might've been strong if this time hadn't been entirely her own fault. So instead of grousing, she just pouted and rode out the after-effects of her mortification. Note to self: do not reminisce over the good old days while trying to win at pool.

"Seriously ..." Dean went on, setting the cue ball back on the table and changing the direction in his favor. "You really named yourselves after _frickin' Scooby-Doo_?" He said incredulously.

The slayer felt slightly self-conscious. She frowned at him. "We were teenagers ... I-I mean, at first it was just a joke. 'Hey, aren't we like a _Scooby Gang_? Ha-ha'. But after a while, it just kinda ... stuck."

Dean looked amused. "Let me guess. You're _Daphne_?"

That implication gave her pause. Buffy straightened, slowly crossing her arms and giving him a hard look. " ... A _way_ more kick-ass version." The blonde finally declared adamantly.

The Winchester, still smirking, shook his head. "Well, thank god that got it's plug pulled. Saved your dignity just in time."

The slayer did not appreciate that crack. She glowered. "Well, what about your name? _The_ _Hardy Boys_?" Buffy said defensively.

"Don't got one. You know, 'cause we're cool." Dean responded pointedly, nonchalant as he kept his eyes on the pool table.

The blonde rolled her eyes. "The point is, it was a lot more simple. Not as much _Full-Metal Jacket._ Just ... Buffy. Leader of the tight inner-circle. Like you with Sam, Kevin, and Cas." She clarified, wistfulness taking over again. God, did she miss those Scooby days.

Dean, who gotten his fourth ball in as she was speaking and about to work on a fifth one, halted abruptly. "Whoa ... _what_? Leader?" He exclaimed as he straightened up, looking startled.

The reaction confused Buffy. She frowned slightly. "Well, that's what _you_ are, right? You're _their_ leader." She stated matter-of-factly, gesturing to him with her hand. Granted theirs was a much smaller team than hers or Angel's have been in the past, but she could still pick out a hierarchy.

Dean chuckled nervously, shaking his head. "Uh, no. No, I am _not_ ..." He broke off, trying to compose his chuckles as he kept shaking his head. "It's not like that. We're a team."

He actually looked earnest and even a little shy, which surprised Buffy even more than the words (Since when he was humble?). She had been sure he was the leader. With how much he ordered people around and took charge, how could he not be? He could say he wasn't the leader all day, but he certainly _acted_ it.

Still ... she had to admit the boyish self-conscious look was kinda cute on him.

Buffy smiled. " _Soo_... you're just bossy. Good to know." She teased.

Dean shook his head, back in cue stick position. "Pot, kettle, honey." He responded simply, unfazed.

The blonde narrowed her eyes slightly, the urge to deny that strong, but knew better. She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Everything was just so ... _different_ back then. The Scoobies, nightly small-town patrols, my very non-medieval house ... _Surburbia_." Buffy reflected, trying very hard to appear neutral and not wistful. Catching her last word, she frowned. "Sort of."

The hunter paused, still in pool position as a contemplative frown came to his face. He forgot his shot again and stood up, eying her carefully. "... You really had your own home?"

The blonde didn't understand the question. " _Don't_ ... most people?" She drawled, giving him a weird look.

Dean shrugged. "Well, not hunters. Most of us, anyway. Usually it's just passing through."

"Wow ... How very ... bohemian." Buffy commented lamely, more than a little confused. "A little weird though, coming from the guy who lives in a schmancy underground clubhouse that looks more expensive than anything I _ever_ owned."

Dean smirked ruefully. "Ah, but we just got that. Only been living in that thing for two months. You still can _feel_ the new." The Winchester told her, more sardonic towards the end. "Everything before that was motel, motel, motel. Me and Sammy never really stuck around anyplace for long."

Shock hit Buffy like a ton a bricks. The slayer watched him with a troubled frown. "So ... no house, no real job, no income. _That's_ your life?" She said in disbelief.

Dean didn't react, so unfazed he didn't even break pool position. "Yep. Swapped out by a car, the bunker, and a whole lot of credit card scams." The hunter answered flippantly.

The more Dean talked about his life, the more disturbed Buffy got. Again with the 'Devil-May-Care' attitude? "How long have you lived like this?" She asked uneasily.

"Pretty much forever." The Winchester responded with ease.

Buffy stared at him, horrified. Moving his whole life, just going motel-by-motel? Probably constantly changing schools? Not even a real house? That meant no stability. That meant having no friends or relationships because you never stuck around long enough to have any. There was no sense of normalcy there. It was so awful to imagine she couldn't believe Dean could just stand there and act like it was nothing.

"Damn it." Dean suddenly muttered, annoyance on his face. His play at pocketing the fifth ball had failed by accidentally scratching the cue ball. He shook his head with a displeased look, straightening up again. "Look's like it's your turn."

 _How could he and Sam live like that even when they were_ kids _? How did they deal with it? Why did they ... why did they even_ have _to?_ Her mind was racing with bewilderment and empathy. Buffy could not believe this is what they called a _life_. It sounded so lonely and isolating. God, if _she_ had grown up like that ... she didn't know _what_ she'd be, but it wouldn't be the person she was today.

"Hey. Buffy." Dean prompted, waving his hand to get her attention. Buffy blinked and refocused on his questioning face. "You gonna play or do you want me to do it for you?" He goaded with a slightly snarky edge.

Buffy just stared at him. " ... Why didn't you?" She asked, soft but meaningful as she met his eyes. The hunter looked even more confused. Not missing a beat, she clarified. "Why didn't you ever look for a real house and a nice, real town to settle in? Or maybe even a second job? A _normal_ job?"

All casualness drained away. Dean regarded her, his face as unreadable as his eyes. He was quiet for a long moment. " ... I'm a hunter." He said simply, his tone quieter than before.

He wasn't understanding. Buffy walked around the pool table closer to him, expression serious. "And I'm a slayer. But I still had a house and a job. I even went to college. Y'know, stuff _outside_ the demons and the monsters?" She prompted, gesturing widely with her arm as she looked at him pointedly.

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, and how'd that work out for you?" He muttered, reclaiming the pool cue as he started to turn away.

Angered, the blonde slayer grabbed his arm to make him face her again. "I'm _saying_ I at least _tried_ to have more than the daily slayage." She asserted. "If you just have the job ..."

"That's _all_ there is." Dean snapped, indignant and cutting as he glared. He tried to yank his arm out of her grasp and as surprised as Buffy was, she let him. "You sign up for this, you don't get apple pies. You don't get white-picket fences and-and white collar _crap_. I'm supposed to what? _Pretend_ to be normal? I ain't normal, and I'm not cherry-picking." He argued fiercely.

Buffy could only stare, shocked at the sudden anger and harshness in his eyes.

The hunter held her stare, displeasure still obvious. After a moment, Dean began to calm. He looked at her meaningfully. " ... You're either in it the whole way or you're out. You don't get it both ways." He said seriously.

The blonde slayer was speechless. Suddenly, in that very moment, looking into his eyes, something made sense. _It's a front. The way Dean acts. Like he doesn't care. Like nothing that ever happened to him really got to him. Inside ... he's hurt._ She realized numbly. His childhood _had_ affected him. He _did_ feel the strain of having nothing but the job. But he didn't know how to deal with it. That's why he acted like this.

Maybe Dean was right. Once you got into the life of killing monsters, they were all that was left. Buffy had tried numerous times to have some aspect of normal and it never worked out. Relationships, college, jobs. The supernatural part of her life always got in the way. The monsters won. _Always_. Maybe she even agreed with him. What was the point of normal when the demons were the only things that stayed at the end of the day?

But even if deep down Buffy did agree with Dean, as resigned to her life as she was ... it wasn't the way it _should_ be. There had to be a balance. If all you had in your life was slaying, it destroyed you. Consumed and warped your thinking so much you hardly felt anything anymore or looked forward to anything. It hardened you, took parts of you. Buffy knew that with clarity because she felt the lull too, especially in the last five years.

Naturally, she rebelled. She didn't want to be that way ... or Dean or anyone else like them either. It was pointless and would never truly last, but as far as she was concerned, short-term balance was better than no balance at all.

But Dean didn't even have that. Did he even have any friends besides Cas and his brother? Somehow she didn't think he did. The blonde slayer knew now, more than ever, that killing monsters wasn't just a job to Dean. It was his _life_... and she couldn't imagine how lonely a life like that must be.

Sympathy crushed Buffy's chest. That black-and-white cynicism of Dean's wasn't just a quirk of his. It came from a very dark place, full of disappointments and bitter tragedies. There was no telling how much he went through. He was everything she was scared to be ... but he still stood there, dealing with it. Unable to let it go.

She had been wrong before. Dean was nothing like another Parker. But the type he really was Buffy still didn't was.

Dean turned away from her. "So are we gonna keep this game going or what?" The Winchester said gruffly.

Feeling like she was seeing Dean with new eyes, the blonde slayer gave a tiny nod and went back to her side of the pool table.

The next part of the game had been played a while in silence. A nerve had clearly been struck in Dean. Buffy didn't truly blame him. Eventually, as they started to progress in pocketing balls, competition started to ease the tension. Buffy got a fourth and fifth, winning. She had barely any time to be smug before Dean turned the tables on her and reached six, using another elaborate move she did not recognize.

" _Okay_. You are trying _way_ too hard." Buffy grumbled, holding her pool stick on the edge of the pool table as she glowered at him.

Dean shrugged. "Hey, I hustle pool for a living. Got a reputation to keep."

That soured the slayer even more. He was a pool shark. _Of course_ he was a pool shark. She pretended to look surprised. "Wow. Did you save that surprise just for me?" Buffy said sarcastically.

The hunter smirked. "Just keeping you on your toes."

The blonde gave a sardonic smile. Annoyance pricked her as Dean prepared to get another ball, but she squashed the pettiness down. "So before we actively try to kill each other when this is over ... there's something I've been wondering." Buffy began, looking at him curiously. "That Purgatory place you were talking about ... how'd you even get there?"

Dean's expression hardened, but he didn't take his eyes off the table. "I killed a dick." He answered bluntly.

"You _what_?"

Realizing how that sounded, the Winchester quickly glanced at her incredulous face. He let out an exasperated breath. "He was a _monster_. A thing called a Leviathan." Dean clarified, giving her a pointed look.

Buffy scrunched up her face in confusion. "A _Levi's_ -thon?"

The hunter looked even more baffled by _her_ description, then just shook his head. "Sure, why not." Dean said quickly, carefully neutral.

"What are they like?" The slayer asked curiously. She didn't remember Sam and Dean mentioning this type of monster.

"Believe me, you do _not_ want to know." The hunter told her with feeling. "I killed that bastard with a dead nun's bone and some weird ritual. But a divine weapon that powerful? Packed a punch. Sent me all the way to Purgatory." A rueful smirk came to his face. "It was wild."

"You robbed a nun's grave to make a weapon?"

Catching the judgmental tone, Dean looked up at her from his pool position. "It was the only way to kill him." The Winchester justified simply, remorseless.

The blonde mulled that over. She supposed she couldn't judge him. She's killed a demon with a _giant crucifix_ before. In a _church_. Whatever kills them, use it. That was her motto. Still ... robbing a nun's bone and carving it into a weapon without _any_ discomfort the way Dean apparently did was ... would that fall under morally questionable?

Buffy couldn't help herself. "Pretty high on the dirt and sleaze count, aren't you, Dean?"

Dean, just about to hit the ball, paused. Slowly he stood up and looked at her. A curiously amused smile spread across his face. " ... You're one of those goody-goody, girl scout-types, aren't cha?" The hunter said knowingly. He chuckled and shook his head. "That's _adorable_." Dean sounded indulgent, like he was talking to some innocent little girl.

Buffy wasn't even fazed. "I robbed a swiss bank." She said flatly.

The Winchester was taken aback. "You did _what_?"

The slayer gave an awkward shrug. "Well, I had to get money _somehow_. Can't exactly run a fully functional slayer army without a little funding. So I ... y'know ... ' _borrowed'_. For the mission." Buffy explained innocently. _And a couple outfits._ She might've felt bad about that part ... except they were _really_ nice outfits.

The swiss bank incident had been a little over two years. Buffy and a patrol of slayers pulled off a secret heist in Germany and took everything. Not one of her finer moments, but you do what you have to. At least it had been insured. Not that that mattered to the military, who hated her even more after that.

Dean's surprise vanished. He smiled admiringly. "Cat burglar with a cause ... I like it." He complimented. A more suggestive smirk came to his face. "You weren't by any chance wearing sexy, skin-tight leather, were you? Y'know with a little—" He made a gesture a low-hanging shirt. Needless to say she figured it out fast.

The blonde silenced him with a wave of her hand. " _Okaay_ , Casanova. Let's not get R-rated." Buffy warned with a roll of her eyes, though she couldn't stop a slightly amused smile. "Now are gonna take your turn anytime the next _ten_ _years_?"

Dean didn't even react. He still just smirked and looked her over with interest. "Well, with a view like you ... can't blame a guy for getting a little distracted." The Winchester said smoothly, slowly moving into pool position without taking his eyes off her.

Buffy scoffed, but her smile betrayed her. Ooh, this guy was a terrible flirt and way too smooth for his own good. She hadn't wanted to admit it, but Dean was charming. Sleazy and at times annoying, but still charming. She wished she could say she didn't feel it, but it was hard not to be attracted to him.

Covering it up fast, Buffy played it cool. "Fine. While you're busy _ogling_ , I'll be the one winning."

Dean smirked and shook his head. "Never said that means you'll win, sweetheart."

The game continued. They were finally at their final rounds and it was getting close. Buffy, more than determined than ever to win, pocketed two more in different intervals. The score was 7 to 7. Yet, even with all slayer instinct in the world, it was hard to beat someone with dirty experience and after a long and strenuous game ... Dean won.

"Hah!" Dean exclaimed triumphantly, watching with pride as the 8-ball went into the hole. "Told you I'd win."

Buffy was glowering. "I _totally_ could've won that." She might've sounded a bit petulant, but she couldn't help it. She never liked losing, be it a battle or game.

"Hey. International jewel thief or not, you can't beat the hustler." Dean said playfully, shaking his head as he smiled.

The blonde nodded sarcastically. " _Right._ 'Cause conning people out of their money on a regular basis is most definitely something to be proud of ... " She responded mockingly.

The Winchester nodded. " _'Course!_ You have any idea how hard it is, getting away with that? All the bar fights I've gotten into ... whew. Like straight out of _Fight Club_." Dean answered with feeling.

Despite herself, Buffy smiled. "You've earned your stripes." She quipped dryly.

Their pool sticks were returned and the balls were back on the table, aligned and racked. "Eh, you weren't bad for a newbie. Lasted a while there. Good game." Dean told her casually. "So ... since _I_ won ... what do I get out of it?" The hunter asked with a smirk, maneuvering towards her.

He was flirting again. Buffy met him. "My beautiful presence." She answered coyly.

Though it committed to nothing, Dean still smiled. "Fits every scenario _I_ had in mind."

The suave response charmed Buffy. She had spent so long single and surrounded by hundreds of girls. So after years of _that_ and now suddenly getting attention from a charismatic, good-looking guy she could hardly complain. It was nice just to be wanted ... and not in a public enemy or slayer general way.

"This was fun. A very fun non-date." Buffy remarked flippantly, nodding her head in emphasis.

The Winchester shook his head. "Definitely not a date."

Buffy looked up at Dean with a smile, holding the edge of the pool table with one hand. Though it hadn't been her intention, they stood a little too close together and that gave her plenty to stare at. Even though everything else about him was rugged, Dean had a delicate and perfectly handsome face that would've given Angel a run for his money. His eyes were a pretty, penetrating green and that smirk of his _always_ seemed to have something behind it, like it was just _meant_ for innuendo. His lips were full and so very, very kissable.

Dean appeared to be checking her out just as much. The air was charged between them and with it the urge to kiss him. The blonde slayer leaned in, lips parting as it took over. The hunter moved with her, bending down ... and she didn't pull away. Suddenly the idea of kissing Dean didn't seem so bad.

A ringing disrupted her hormones. Buffy opened her eyes, just a few meager inches away from Dean's lips and glanced down. It was his cell phone. Instant annoyance was on the hunter's face and for a moment he looked like he was really about to ignore it. It rang again. Dean sighed, reluctantly pulling away from her.

"Bad time, Sammy." Dean said flatly into the phone. Talk on the line. The hunter frowned. "A vamp nest? Where?"

Buffy perked up, immediately forgetting about their almost kiss. _Vampires? Here?_

The blonde slayer did little to hide her interest in the conversation. Dean was actually turning serious. "How big?" There was brief talk on the phone. Dean nodded. "Listen, uh ... I ran into Buffy. Turns out she's still in Springfield. So ... back-up?" Sam's voice spoke more words on the line. The Winchester nodded again. "Yeah, you do that. We're on our way."

As soon as the hunter hanged up, words were already spilling out off Buffy's mouth. "Vampires? As in actual nest?" She questioned excitedly.

Dean frowned at first, then gave a little smile. "Actual nest." He confirmed, sounding amused. "Sam found one a few blocks from the motel. We gotta—"

"Great! Let's go kill! Let's clean out that nest." Buffy replied with hearty enthusiasm, smiling wide as she swung her arm.

Still with the overkill eagerness, Dean's frown was back. "What's got you so chipper all of a sudden?" He asked in bemusement.

The blonde was beaming. "My full name? First half _'Buffy'_ , second half _'the Vampire Slayer'_. Vampires are my thing. Part of the birthright." The slayer explained still with the same cheer. "I haven't dusted one ever since I got here. It's nice to finally get something back in my wheelhouse."

"Well, that's great. Except this ain't the classics." Dean gave her a meaningful look. "Things are a little different here ..."

Buffy refused to let anyone dampen her spirits. "Vampires are vampires and I'm still the vampire _slayer._ A few vamps in alternate universe brand can't change that."

"Yeah, sure, but—"

The blonde was blocking him out, frowning in thought. "Now all I need is my trusty scythe ..."

Dean turned incredulous. "Wait, what? That nest is close. We should just go straight there. We got extra machetes ..."

Buffy turned to him quickly. "My scythe's back at my motel. You can drive me there to pick it up first." The small slayer said with casual matter-of-factness, completely disregarding everything he just said.

The Winchester had just enough time to look indignant and none to argue when Buffy turned away from him, walking with renewed purpose. In complete 'Slayer Mode' and ready to kick serious vampire ass.

Dean stared after her in disbelief. Finally he snorted and shook his head, following. "Your wish is my command, _Pollyanna_." He muttered.

 _ **####**_

The abandoned house was on the very far side of the neighborhood. It was a rickety-two story, a stained white color with peeling paint that indicated it might've once been gray. The roof was a mismatched combination of dark green shingles and boarded down wood with an overhang over the porch partly caved in a yard that more was dirt than grass. Gnarled trees and a flimsy fence had surrounded it.

As soon as Buffy saw it, she knew immediately it was a nest. It looked exactly like every one she ever came across in Sunnydale.

According to Sam, who had cased it out before her and Dean arrived, it had about seven vampires inside. Buffy, buzzing with energy, had been very inclined to kick down the door and just start slaying. Instead, self-aware of her two "normal" buddies, she went with their plan. Sneak in and get the drop of them. The vampires were probably sleeping.

Buffy had never been a fan of killing things defenseless, even if they were evil. Sleeping counted as defenseless. But since Buffy cared _way_ more about whatever boosted the Winchester's chances of survival in this than her little "code", she was making an exception.

The slayer and hunters moved out, armed with two machetes and a scythe. Climbing over the fence easily, the trio headed from the back. Sam picked the lock on the back door and, with extreme caution, they went in.

Emerging through the door into what was once a kitchen, they all tensed. Three vampires were in immediate sight. All three were in the living room, one on a torn-up couch and another on a just as tattered chair. The last one was leaning against the wall close to the stairs, a blanket wrapped tightly around him.

They exchanged looks, preparing. Buffy knew full well that wiping out a whole nest in their sleep was impossible, given vampires and their super-hearing. She knew without saying the brothers knew that too. They all rationalized in the same perspective: at least a few would go down before all hell broke loose. With that in mind ... they went to work.

Sam and Dean headed for the loungers. Buffy sliced her scythe at the vampire on the floor, lopping his head clean off. _Really, you should've seen this coming when you went blanket._ She had to pun, even if it was just in her thoughts. The blonde smirked, reveling in the familiarity of her scythe and vampire slaying. God, she had missed this.

Too bad just a second after that all hell had to break loose.

"What ...?" A male vampire had wandered out on the lower part of the staircase, staring out in confusion at the three hunters.

Dean smirked. "Morning, sleepyhead."

The vampire's eyes landed on the beheaded bodies of his nest-mates. Grief and rage swelled on his face and he looked at them accusingly. "How dare you ...!"

Buffy readied her scythe, smirking mockingly. "I know. A little unfair. But when you _really_ think about it ... isn't dying in your sleep the way any senior citizen wants to go out?" She quipped. When all the vampire did was eye her hatefully, the blonde innocently shrugged. "Gotta appreciate the irony, at least."

"Guys! Hunters! They—"

The slayer suddenly threw her scythe, cutting through the vampire's neck with so such break-neck speed the axe part embedded in the wall. Instant death. Buffy didn't even blink, expression hard as stone.

Dean and Sam were gawking at her, wonder and shock on their faces.

"Whoa ..." Sam said in astonishment, breathless.

"That was hot." Dean voiced what his brother wouldn't, awestruck.

The blonde slayer was in the zone. "Party's not over." Buffy warned, her attention on the staircase as voices and other noises reached her. "They're waking ... Time to do this the good old-fashioned way."

Both brothers sobered. Dean shrugged. "Well, it was fun while it lasted." He replied, trying to act nonchalant.

The slayer gripped her scythe. "Okay, boys ..." She began, ripping it out of the wall and twirling it a few times, settling it back in fighting position. "Into the breach we go." She deadpanned.

As soon as they trio bolted up the staircase, two more vampires were in their face, furious and cursing at the sight of the hunters. They were all poised to fight when suddenly they stiffened. Sounds of feminine crying and screams of pain floated to them from the attic.

Immediately Buffy put two and two together. She hardened. "They have someone here."

Dean scoffed. "Keeping around a living blood bank. God, you vampires are sick." He stated, disgust in his voice.

One of them, a female brunette vampire, snarled and barred her fangs. Unreasonable shock hit Buffy at the unfamilar sets of serrated teeth. But there was no further time to process. "Stay away from our food stash!" She growled.

With that, the female vampire attacked Dean and Sam while the male one aimed for her.

Buffy grunted, holding him back with her scythe as she tried to not hit the hallway wall. The blonde slayer punched him a few times and then swung her weapon, hitting him even harder in the side of the face with her scythe. The vampire reeled, a large bleeding cut from the top of his head down the side of his face.

Her vampire recouped, shooting her a look of pure contempt. "No machetes, hunter? Are you a big _Lord of the Rings_ fan?" He sneered.

The blonde gave a frustrated frown. She whacked the vampire a few times with her scythe, dodging most of his punches and avoiding every jugular-ripping move in just a few seconds. She caught his arm and did a spinning body kick, sending the vampire flying into the one of bedrooms, groaning as he crashed through and broke off parts of the doorframe.

"No one _ever_ appreciates the classics." Buffy grumbled.

"Dean!" Sam's voice snapped the slayer back briefly from her own battle. Dean had been tossed into the wall farther down, but was still standing. Meanwhile, his brother was slashing, punching, and defending away. "Save the girl! Me and Buffy will handle these two!"

Dean nodded, looking over them both a split second before he peeled away.

Buffy turned her attention back to the vampire and advanced, walking into the doorway. The vampire right in the middle of the dirty, particularly furnitatureless room, getting to his feet.

Fury burned in his eyes. "Should've known a girl like you would prefer the bedroom." He mocked as they prowled closer and closer towards each other.

Buffy gave a snide smile. "Sorry. My number of vampire honeys already reached quota of two."

The male vampire just smirked and immediately after threw a punch, commencing the fight once again.

The longer she battled, the more at home Buffy felt. It'd been too long since she really enjoyed the age-old dance of slayer and vampire. There was not enough around back at the home-base and she hadn't found any here until now. The vampire landed good hits, but Buffy always beat them back. She knew she could kill this thing quick if she really tried. She was enjoying herself too much though.

"Y'know, I really missed this." Buffy began casually, blocking an elbow with her scythe. He swung another punch, but the slayer dodged. "The slayer-vampire thing." She hit him harshly in the head with end of her scythe. "There just hasn't been enough vampires." The blonde hit with it again, hard, swinging his body back. She smirked. Just as he turned, she snapped her scythe back and staked him. "So thank you for ..."

Buffy trailed away, eyes wide as she saw the vampire still standing. No poof. " ... for breaking the dry spell." She finished lamely, remembering much too late what she unbelievably forgot.

The vampire laughed and just in that one second, the tables turned. He gripped her scythe—no holy water effect, she _keenly_ picked up on—and thrust it forward, removing the stake from his heart. It hit her hard in the stomach, knocking the breath from her. He actually took _control_ of her scythe and slammed into her side with the blunt part, knocking her off the ground.

Certain her side her had a pretty nasty bruise, Buffy was about to flip up and kill him particularly painfully. But the vampire was on top of her too soon, holding the scythe against hard against her neck. The vampire leered over her. "You really are dumb. Stakes don't work on us ..." His eyes gleamed wickedly, pressing the weapon harder into her. "But maybe they can work on you."

The dark threat struck a nerve in Buffy, remembering a certain memory of almost bleeding to death and her own stake. Now she was trapped and was about to be killed by her own weapon. Boy, was that a scenario she never wanted to relive.

She felt it a second before she heard it: the slashing of a machete. The vampire's head was hacked clean off, startling Buffy significantly as it rolled away to the side. Blood spattered on her face. Immediately the blonde slayer reclaimed her scythe and used it to shove the body off her, kicking it away a little harder than necessary.

Sam was towering over her, a literal giant with his blood-stained machete still dripping. "Buffy? You okay?"

Buffy sat up on the floor, rubbing her neck with one hand. _Wigged and my pride died in a hole somewhere, but y'know. Still breathing to ride out the humiliation._ She thought in spectacular bitterness. "Peachy." She muttered, accepting the hunter's hand as he helped her up. "Cut it a little close with the jungle toy though."

"I knew what I was doing." Sam reassured coolly.

The blonde slayer had no doubt that was true, but if it wasn't there would undoubtedly be more than one head rolling. Buffy was about to respond, then caught the meaningful look he was shooting her. A look that very strongly said, but wasn't dare said ' _Good thing at least one of us did.'_

Somehow _Sam_ of all people giving her that look hit a lot harder. The blonde died a bit inside even more, realizing with extreme discomfort the older hunter must've caught her split-second stake mistake.

"We need to check on that girl. Dean should be with her." She said quickly and briskly, not giving Sam a chance to mention it.

By the brief raise of his eyebrows, the keen Winchester knew exactly what she was doing and why, but after a moment just nodded. "Right. Let's go."

Buffy followed the hunter out the bedroom, both casually stepping over the body of the vampire Sam killed in the hallway. They tracked Dean and the girl to the attic. The older hunter was still there, untying the hostage's hands. A beheaded body wasn't too far away from him. So _that_ had been where the seventh vampire was.

"Dean." Sam greeted as they hurried over to him. The second he caught sight of the girl, empathy swirled across his face. "Oh, my god ..."

The girl was a pretty but much too thin blonde, no older than fourteen with long mattered hair and bright blue eyes. She was covered in grim and multiple bitemarks from the vampires all over her skin. She still looked reasonably terrified, shaking and tear-streaked.

Dean spared them a brief glance. "Uh, hey. This here's Dani. Bastards been keeping her in the attic and feeding off her for two months." Extreme loathing and disgust tainted his voice when he explained the last part, still working on the knots.

"Did she ingest any blood?" Sam asked.

"Says she's clean." Dean answered with slight shrug, his focus still on the tying.

Buffy frowned a bit. _But it's not like she's on death's door. No blood alert ... oh. Right._ Her confusion quickly faded as her lessons with the brothers refreshed themselves. Vampires here didn't need to be almost dead to become a vampire. Yet another rule nothing like the world she was born and raised in.

"I-I was walking home after school ... I was just walking home." Dani croaked out as she shook her head repeatedly, sobbing the last words out.

Dean finally freed the bounds around her hands. "Hey, we're gonna get you home, alright, Dani? You're gonna go home." He reassured her comfortingly, putting his hands on his shoulders as he looked her in the eye.

Buffy nodded. "It's okay. They're all gone now." She spoke gently. She couldn't help but be a bit surprised at Dean's sudden tenderness with the traumatized girl. She didn't know he had a soft spot for kids.

"We need to get her to a hospital." Sam stated immediately.

Dean nodded grimly, steadying the malnutritioned girl as she wobbled on her feet.

Through their exchange, Buffy had wandered over to the vampire's body. She stood over it, looking down with a small frown. _No dust ..._ She thought slowly. She crouched down, resting her scythe on her knees. The vampire's head was a short distance away, it's serrated fangs still barred in a snarl.

 _Different fangs ... no dust ... no dust?_

It was against everything she had seen and been through in the last month, but the more she processed it, the less sense it made. She was the vampire _slayer_. She had been fighting them for ten years. She was supposed to know vampires inside out. How were these things even vampires?

"They're ... bodies are still here." Buffy murmured out loud, perplexed. There was a gaze searing into her back and she knew without looking it was Sam, surveying her critically. The blonde slayer ignored it.

Dean, still supporting Dani, overheard her remark. "Yeah. You were expected what else, pixie-dust?" He deadpanned, ushering the girl out.

Buffy stood up and looked at Dean wearily. He really had no idea just how close he was to the truth.

 ** _####_**

Dani had left at the nearest hospital. Somehow through the girl's trauma, they had managed to convince her not to say anything about vampires and chock it up as an animal attack. It hadn't been easy, but it was for her sake. Doctors and authorities wanted to ask questions, but since none could be answered Buffy and the brothers weren't keen to stick around. As soon as they heard they got a hold of the girl's family, they were gone.

Buffy had been glad to help the girl. Really glad, even if she still spun over the vampires. What certainly hadn't helped her was Sam, who kept giving her these surreptitious looks like something was eating at him. So the minute Dani was taking care of and they arrived at Buffy's motel to drop her off, it came as no surprise to her when Sam finally spilled.

"You staked a vamp? _Actually_ staked a vamp?" Dean prompted incredulously.

Even though the slayer had braced herself for this, she didn't have to like it. She gave a non-committal shrug. "It was a ... spur-of-the moment." She answered lamely, avoiding their eyes.

"A 'spur-of-the-moment' where you nearly got _fed_ on." Sam reminded her pointedly.

Embarrassment funneled through her. "It's ... how I handled vampires back at home. Find 'em, stake 'em, and dust 'em. It's a big dusty thing. I guess I got a little too into it." She explained awkwardly. Noticing their unsatisfied looks, she rolled her eyes. "It was a _reflex_ , okay? It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal?" Dean was outraged. "Well, you and your little _'reflex'_ almost got you killed."

 _Comes with the territory._ The snide remark was so tempting to say, but she choked it down. _Not_ appropriate right now. "Not my finest hour. It was a _mistake_. Really, I'm already doing different play-by-plays in my head." Okay, so that still came out pretty snide and definitely flippant, but at least she owned up to it.

Sam stared at her severely. "Yeah, but that's just it. In this line of work ... it just takes one mistake to kill you."

Instant incredulity hit the slayer. Was he really saying that to her? _Her_? "You really never _have_ heard my speeches, have you?" Buffy said pointedly, giving him a flat look. "I already know that. Now I get it's real easy to focus on my bubbly, youthful charm ... but I'm _really_ not that green."

"Well, given you popping up in another universe, you might as well be." Dean responded cuttingly.

If there was _anything_ that could get under skin, it was definitely that. Buffy narrowed her eyes. "It was _one_ mistake. Just because ... I know what I'm doing." The blonde slayer retorted defensively, suppressing the voice in her head that didn't quite believe that.

Luckily (or unluckily) Dean spoke for that little voice. "Yeah, back in _Salem's Lot_ , maybe. You ain't in _Salem's Lot_."

Anger started to boil within her. "You think I don't know that?" The blonde snapped, loaded with bitterness.

"I'm thinking you staked a _damn vampire_ , in _our_ world, so yeah." Dean shot back sharply. "Looks to me like a certain little blonde is having _adjustment_ issues."

Fury burned in Buffy. She didn't want to admit it, even to herself ... but even with instinct and superpowers, slaying in this world was a lot like getting a reset. Less ten-year seasoned slayer, more uncertain-rookie-sixteen-year old. She had gotten so far away from that it was hard to lose her assurance and certainty. It was slaying. Slaying was the _one_ thing she was supposed be good at.

The blonde slayer took in a sharp breath, glowering up at Dean. "Did you have _any_ idea how hard it is, having to throw away _everything_ you _ever_ knew for a whole new set of ground rules?" She finally vented, frustration and distress bubbling out of her.

Not a trace of sympathy was on Dean's face. "Well, you better find that _'on'_ switch. 'Cuz either you learn now or you aren't hunting." The Winchester declared, final. "We're not your _baby-sitters_. We can't hunt and waste time worrying about you."

Buffy gaped, staring at him incredulously. What gave him the right to talk to her like that? "I don't _need_ a baby-sitter. And I told you before. I'm not a fan of being _censored._ Nothing you say is gonna make me stop slaying here." The blonde replied just as adamantly.

"Great. Then get off your damn high horse and put back on the kid gloves." Dean stated forcefully, stern. " _We get it._ Where you come from ... you're the Big Kahuna. Stopped apocalypses, kicked some demon ass, called it a day. But you're on _our_ turf now. Now _we're_ the one with the stats and 411 on _apocalypse_."

Out of _everything_ she had ever _heard_... Buffy never thought she'd see the day where someone would actually have the guts to say _that_ to her. What was even more astounding was that this guy truly believed it.

She was incensed. That superior, high-handed voice of Dean's was a voice she had probably used a thousand times on the Scoobies and the slayers, but being on the receiving end of that voice was a whole other story.

Ironically Buffy only realized then why she clashed with Dean. They were both dominant, alpha people. Dean liked to be the boss ... just like she did. Therein lied the problem.

But for once that was not making her the most furious. It was the fact she knew he was _right_. For the first time since she was called, she _wasn't_ the one who knew all about slaying and monsters. She was just someone who didn't know the score anymore. That aggravated her wounded pride on a deep and painful level.

Sam stepped forward, expression sympathetic. "Look ... we really do get it. You did it your way. You got things done. You were in control ... and now you're not and you _hate_ that." He described knowingly. He shook his head. "But you gotta work with us here. If you don't, you aren't gonna survive."

Buffy still seethed with frustration. Slowly but surely though she was starting to see reason. They were right. No matter how much she hated to admit, they were right.

Finally admitting that to herself deflated all anger. The slayer's shoulders slumped, lowering her eyes. "So ... no stakes, no sunlight, holy water, or crosses?" She knew already the answer to every single one but she still needed to hear it.

"No. None." Sam refuted steadily.

Dean shook his head. "Not here."

Buffy raised her head, staring at them wearily. "No ... bumpies? Or ... pink eye?" The blonde asked more uncertainly.

Immediate confusion swept over both brother's faces.

"What?" Dean exclaimed.

" ... Bumpies?" Sam repeated slowly, like it was foreign language.

That was the last nail in the coffin. Buffy looked down again and sighed. "Right." She muttered, despondent. "I get it. New world, no playbook. I ... need to change." She admitted tiredly. The slayer raised her head and made a show of looking firm. "I'll try to curb my instincts. It won't happen again."

The brothers stared at her a second. Finally Sam nodded. Dean, however, was still skeptical. "So you aren't gonna go all stake happy on us again?"

Just a speck of the fire that had drained out of her returned. "If I _do_ ... you'll be the first to know." The blonde responded tersely, giving him a challenging look.

Dean frowned, looking like he wasn't quite sure what to take from that. Sam was heading back toward the Impala. "We're gonna be heading back to the bunker tomorrow so ... we'll pick you up in the morning." The brown-haired hunter told her.

The blonde slayer nodded resignedly, acutely aware there was nothing left for her in Springfield. She didn't know what she was going to do _now_ after that ... but she guessed she'd find out. Story of her life really.

"Dean?" Sam called to his brother, standing by the car.

Dean was hovering, staring at her critically. The blonde slayer gave a somewhat weak glower in response. Finally the hunter just shook his head. "See you in the morning, Princess." He muttered, smiling sarcastically at her before following Sam to the car.

Buffy stood alone in parking lot as they drove away, the memory of staking that vampire on constant replay. She had been so excited at the prospect of vampires. Finally she could be doing what she did best. Buffy had jumped at chance to be back in her comfort zone. She had been so caught up in it, she completely forgot the different rules. Now she knew. She _didn't_ have a comfort zone here. Because it wasn't home. Because nothing she knew or did had any bearing here.

Disillusionment swept over Buffy. Dean's words of her no longer being on top of things slaying and her own words of needing to change swarm in her mind. It was silly, but somehow both facts sharpened just how out of place she felt here. It was more than just discouraging. It was _lonely_.

Buffy glanced down at her scythe. Every other time she had looked at, it had been bittersweet. Thinking of her friends and drawing strength from it. This time it was mocking her. Disconnection carved a cold place inside her. _In my world, I was the Slayer. Here I'm nothing._

* * *

 **A/N:** **So this chapter ended up a lot longer than wanted. I didn't want another Ch. 6 *sighs*. Anyway. Labolas' vision thing and whatever he saw about Buffy will be a big plot-point in the future. I think it's pretty obvious now why Castiel's relationship with Buffy is complicated. Things will definitely get worse before they get better.**

 **The Scoobies are back! ;) Hopefully no one is _too_ upset with Faith leading Buffy's army. She's matured a lot in the 3-year time-skip and I tried to make that show. I apologize if Andrew's dialogue was horrible. I'm not fluent in geek and not a big fan of him on top of that so it was lose-lose. About the Scoobies ... _All_ of Buffy's relationships are pretty screwed up right now. The Scoobies never really recovered from the end of S7. It's still kinda there. Buffy being in a bad place again doesn't help matters. We definitely haven't seen the last of the Scoobies! :)**

 **So Buffy finally got a peek of the Dean on the _inside._ Buffy is the type of person IMO that doesn't really have the patience to read into people who don't have their good side as default (Spike, Faith, etc.), but when she does finally see glimpses of real pain and goodness she doesn't forgot it. She saw just a crack of Dean angst so far, but that's all Buffy really needs to spark interest. Poor Dean lol. He doesn't even know. xD**

 **The ending with Buffy ... I hope it was consistent to her? I just feel like, with how much Buffy prides herself on her slaying and is such a creature of habit, this alternate universe thing with different rules would really weigh on her. The Buffy/Dean clashing is so fun tho. They're such blatant hypocrites with each other and it never stops being funny.**

 **Next chapter is going to be a "Monster of the Week" one ... It's gonna be really fun though. Good thing it's going to be pretty Buffy/Dean-centered. ;)**

 **NEXT CHAPTER:** Buffy, Sam, and Dean investigate a string of murders in a small Idaho town. Buffy is determined this time to adjust and get used to the different world. Meanwhile, she continues to clash with Dean, though not just in the way she expected. The case takes a quick and unusual turn when the type of monster comes to light ...

 ** _Thanks the 56 favorites, 107 follows, and 50 reviews!_**


	9. Chapter 9: It's My Life

**A/N:** So it's been a few months since I updated. O.o Really sorry! My life has been insanely busy. So this one of my rare "monster-of-the-week" ones. I don't do them a lot, but when I do it's usually to push certain aspects of the emotional subplot I can't always easily focus when shit's hitting the fan. I'm a plot-driven fan myself. Love Supernatural, but after eleven years of fillers not with a new monster it can get kinda old. Luckily this one is new. I'm honestly surprised SPN hasn't done this monster yet ... but it was cool to make my own rules and interpretation. ;)

On a few other notes, Buffy and Dean are still sorta clash-y with Dean not showing much of his soft side ... but remember, they've only known each other a month. That's not that long, guys. We can't forgot their personalities. And thank you, **_IoSolUno_** , for your analysis on the Scooby Gang last chapter! You understood it exactly for what it was. There was definitely a bit of new maturity there. It wasn't about demonizing the Scoobies or demonizing Buffy and I'm sure not everyone got that but I'm glad someone did. :)

In answer to guest review _**Della**_ about the heaven thing, Buffy didn't believe in God or angels in Ch. 5 because where she went to when she died didn't have them. In the Buffyverse there isn't Heaven or Hell, but heaven dimensions and hell dimensions.

Chapter's named after the song **"It's My Life"** by _**Bon Jovi**_ because it kind of fit lol.

 **Disclaimer: I never have and never will own these shows. A girl can dream though. **

_**Constructive criticism/OCCness warnings always open! :)**_

* * *

 _It's My Life_

~~Sam~~

Sam sat quietly in the Men of Letters library, sifting through possible cases in his laptop as per usual. Dean's own laptop was situated just across from him at the other side of the table. The seat was unoccupied.

Sam was distracted. He couldn't help but think back to Labolas and Crowley. Both had been quiet, but the hunter knew there were still there ... waiting for their moment. It was hard to focus on regular cases when the real enemies were still out there, doing things far worse.

It was funny. Not too long ago he had been perfectly content throwing all this supernatural stuff on someone else and living like a normal guy. That was the Sam of six months ago, anyway. Now here he was worrying and feeling responsible like the last year never happened.

 _I guess when you've got the worst out of everything most of your life, then that's all you really know._ Sam thought ruefully.

Someone was coming. Sam raised his head, expecting it to be Dean, but saw Buffy coming toward him.

"Hey." The blonde said as she walked up, a small smile on her face. "You looking for the next monster?" She gripped the top of the chair across from him, curiosity in her eyes.

"Yeah. Crowley and Labolas are still in the wind, we haven't found any lore on a tainted demon, and Kevin's translating the trials still, so ... back to the usual, I guess." His tone was resigned, fully feeling the weight of their rather dismal situation.

Buffy became more solemn. " ... You do know the longer they're in hiding, the harder they're gonna hit coming out. You _do_ know that." The slayer stated matter-of-factly.

" ... Yeah." The Winchester said in a weary sigh. "But there's not much we can do for now. Just ... do what we can."

"So frying the monster fish." Buffy began casually, sitting down in the chair. "Got a feeling that's your answer to everything. You're sitting in one of those college seminars with poetic waxing like _'What is life?_ ' and stuff like that? Slaying. 'Oh! Lost my watch!' _Slay_. Slayed out and in desperate need of a break? Nah." She teased.

 _Actually, that's Dean._ Sam thought pointedly. He went along with her though. "Pretty much."

The slayer mock-hummed. "Spontaneous." Buffy replied wryly. "Seriously though. Do you and Dean ever take breaks even _without_ a full plate or ...?"

Sam shook his head. "We don't really take breaks." He tried to sound casual about it, but disappointment slipped. He really wouldn't mind a break. He knew the demons and the gates were important, but it was hard to always muster the same obligation for regular jobs. Dean seemed never to run _out_ of obligation, gung-ho over everything from Labolas to cases. It was ... exhausting, frankly.

"What about you? You ever take a vacation?" Sam diverted the conversation, not wanting to dwell.

Buffy paused, frowning in thought. " _Does_ ... a trip to Warwickshire Castle taking down a _Cerberus_ thingy count?" She offered innocently. Sam chuckled, shaking his head at the hope on her face, and she deflated. "Okay, you got me. Married to the job. Color me Working Girl."

The Winchester shrugged. "Hey, that just makes you one of us." He said in weary amusement.

Buffy smirked. "Initiation into the Winchester Club. Includes death, monsters, and not having a life. I feel so honored." The blonde joked drily. Sam couldn't help but smile. "So. You find anything on the Weird-O-Meter yet?" She asked casually, leaning forward and crossing her arms on the table.

"Uh, nothing much. There was a couple maybe cases ... but honestly, not a lot to go on. I'm not sure they're our kind of strange." Sam admitted.

"I'll go with you guys. Again. If there's anything." Buffy punctuated out lamely. She shook her head. "I have nothing better to do ... _apparently_." She muttered bitterly.

Sam looked at her sympathetically. "Things have been rough lately. Cas will find something. He'll be back."

Buffy raised her head. " _Cas?_ You mean the Cas that didn't warn us about Labolas visions because a 'in-the-dark' team is trendy and dirty secrets are nice?" The blonde said caustically, unimpressed.

The hunter shifted uncomfortably. He heard about Labolas' foresight and Cas's omission of it from a very angry and stressed out Dean. Sam had been frustrated too. He had no idea why Castiel wouldn't tell them something like that. The angel didn't get much, but he got precaution. Sam tried to give him the benefit of doubt. He _really_ , _really_ tried. But he had to admit things weren't looking good. Dean may very well be right about him. Castiel was keeping secrets. _Again._

Still, suspicious as he was, Sam didn't want that waning trust in Cas apparent to Buffy. There was still loyalty to the angel.

"He made a mistake. He doesn't always know better. But he'll still be looking for the scythe you need. He said he would. " Sam responded out of obligation. Buffy still looked skeptical so the Winchester plowed on. "And any answers about how you got here, _you'll_ get. Just give it time."

"Time is _exactly_ what I don't have." Buffy said impatiently. "I still don't know if the Big Bad who sent me here is a Big Bad running the show at home. Leaving behind my cute yet _green_ slayer army not withstanding."

Sam was unsure how to respond, a bit bowled over by this woman's rampant paranoia. "Buffy, it's only been a month—"

"That's too long." The slayer argued sternly. "You don't understand. What's been going on back there ..." She trailed away and shook her head, worry in her eyes. "I can't just leave them and be out of the helm like this. I just _can't_."

The Winchester gauged her. He thought and not for the first time there was still a lot Buffy wasn't telling about her life at home. She was such a mystery. The only thing he could tell for sure was she was riddled with baggage. A _lot_ of baggage. She was much too young to have _this_ much baggage.

"You've ... been through a lot of bad, haven't you?" Sam asked knowingly.

Buffy looked surprised. She gave a wry, weary smile. "You really have _no_ idea."

"Believe me, I do. Me and my brother ... we've been through a lot of bad too." Sam answered, growing distant as he thought about the horrors they had to endure: people dying, dying themselves, Lucifer, Hell, losing his soul, apocalypse, _starting_ the apocalypse. And it never ended. There was always something else. Buffy had baggage. But whatever she had, Sam didn't think there was anyone in existence that could top him and Dean's.

"Death, apocalypse, misery, and torture?" The blonde slayer summed up. She gave a pointed look. "Pretty sure I have the patent for that."

Sam smiled. "I guess we have that in common."

"And nothing says BFF material like bonding over disaster and emotional trauma." Buffy quipped. She gave a casual shrug. "But it's the slay biz. You don't go around killing things thinking it's gonna come with insurance, rainbows, and fluffy, fluffy bunnies."

Sam nodded, knowing that all that way. He thought with a prick of guilt back to his time with Amelia. He couldn't get Amelia back. He knew that. But he at least could still live like a normal guy. It was hard to relate to Buffy, who had such a dismissive outlook on hunting.

"So why do you do this anyway?" The slayer queried suddenly. Sam snapped out of it, looking at her with surprise as he met her curious expression. "The slaying. I mean, with the sucky pay and constant life-or-death situations ... you gotta be a really special kind of trooper to still put up with that."

The Winchester hesitated. _What do I even say to that?_

Mostly it was guilt. Sam hadn't quite forgiven himself for abandoning Kevin a whole year and the longer he worked with his brother, the worse he felt not looking for Dean in Purgatory. Even though he kept telling himself it was _okay_ to want normal, he could help but but feel bad over it at this point.

Sam looked at Buffy, debating. He took a shot. "Honestly?" The hunter sighed. He shook his head. "I don't want to. Me and Dean were raised in it ... We've been doing this a long time. But it's just more of the same old, same old, y'know? I took a year off recently ... and things were a lot easier." He confessed.

Buffy watched him with empathy in her eyes. A long moment passed and Sam cleared his throat. "But with everything going on with the tablet and Crowley and now this Labolas guy, I need to help. So I guess I'll take one for the team."

The blonde eyed him thoughtfully. "I guess we all got a story. And ya know, I really get it." She began with ease. "If you think teen me was flipping for joy when a fuddy-duddy old guy comes up saying I have a calling and must fight the monsters, then you're way off base. I never wanted this either." Buffy admitted openly. "But I was The Chosen One. It was either me or no one. Normal just ... wasn't part of my destiny."

Sam was speechless at the revelation. It made sense. No teenager would want to worry about the fate of the world or sacrifice everything fighting monsters. It also explained Buffy's maturity far beyond her age. He was surprised though she still hated the life. The young woman seemed hunter to her core.

Buffy half-shrugged awkwardly. "It's okay. Lacking the flips of joy, but dutifully replaced by the flips of indentured servitude and the occasional bitter cartwheel. I had some great work-outs." She jested with a smile, trying to lighten it.

He knew what Buffy was trying to do. She clearly didn't want pity. Sam sympathized anyway. He knew how it felt to be forced into something. His father raised him to be a hunter and it had been no choice of his. For Buffy though, it seemed worse. It wasn't her family that turned her into this. It was her _world_. Too many people—quite literally—counted on her. At least in all the times Sam turned his back on hunting, a pissed off dad or a disappointed brother was the only thing on his conscience.

"Sam ... If you really don't want to do this, then you shouldn't." The slayer declared suddenly, solemn now. "This isn't the kind of life for everyone. You sacrifice so much ..." Her tone became quieter, a faraway look entered her eyes. "I didn't have a choice. _You_ do. No one should bear that burden if they don't have to."

Sam was struck by her words. She was right. He _did_ have a choice. It circulated inside and despite how much he told himself he wanted a normal life, he wasn't sure what to make of it then. After Labolas and the other demons are gone, after Hell is closed ... could he finally have a real life? Was that what he was going to do, when all this is over?

 _It's too complicated right now ... one step at a time._ He didn't even know if him and Dean were going to survive this. It was too early to think that far ahead.

He gave Buffy a small smile. " ... I'll think about it." Sam told her and he whole-heartedly meant it.

The slayer gauged his expression. Finally she smiled back. "I hope so."

She sounded sincere and in that moment Sam gained new appreciation for her. He hadn't expected to relate to Buffy on a normal life. He dismissed her as too much like Dean in that department and while he loved his brother, the two of them were never on the same page. It was comforting to Sam that at least someone could understand what he was going through.

Sam went back to finding a case. The blonde watched him work a moment, then let out a deep breath. "Well. Since I'm here ..." Buffy casually dragged Dean's laptop over from the seat next to her and began going through it.

The hunter watched her, frowning. "That's Dean's ..."

"Not right now it's not." Buffy said indifferently. Her brows scrunched together. "Weird and freaky, where are you?" She mused in a child-like voice, typing into it laptop.

The sight was both innocent and strangely determined that Sam couldn't help but smile. He had to admit she was cute. He shared Dean's attraction to her. As much as he frowned upon it, Sam couldn't entirely blame him for trying to hook up with her. Maybe, if circumstances were different ... _Sam_ could've grown to really like her. She reminded him a lot of Sarah years ago. But the pain of losing Amelia was still too fresh. It was too soon. Sam knew, given Buffy's situation, that was for the best.

"Alright, but he's gonna come back soon ..." Sam teased.

" _Dean_ is a little too busy trying to be the _Mickey_ to Kevin's _Rocky_ and by the way, _sucking_." Buffy replied pointedly, a unimpressed look on her face as she scrolled through. "We're not stuck in some motivational movie montage. Badgering Kevin is _not_ gonna make him cough up tablet translations any faster."

Sam had to agree. "Try telling that to Dean."

"Rather try my luck with evil monsters." The blonde slayer answered wryly, giving Sam a sidelong glance. "But really. He expects ... what? Just _'presto-chang-o'_ and suddenly Kevin's all trials know-y?"

"He's just restless. Especially with Labolas still running around." What Sam didn't say was that Dean had been on edge way before this, ever since he came out of Purgatory. The tablet and Labolas was only adding on to whatever inner battle his brother was still wrestling with. "He's only ... trying to give Kevin encouragement."

Buffy actually sobered as he was talking, looking over attentively. When she heard the last part, she rolled her eyes. " ... The good old _'do-it-now-or-I'll-nag-my-way-up'_ routine. A incentive classic." The small blonde mocked.

Sam smiled and nodded. "Yep. Works for Dean every time." They shared an amused look.

Sam found hilarity in how refreshingly unimpressed Buffy was with Dean. It was funny that his brother still seemed to think he had a shot. She was so out of his league.

The slayer and hunter focused on cases. Minutes ticked by (Dean was still not back ... and at the point Sam decided he felt sorry for Kevin). The Winchester was about to click on a mysterious murder of a woman in a Los Angeles hotel when Buffy suddenly distracted him, claiming she found something. Sam raised his head, genuinely surprised.

"Idaho. Five deaths in the last five months. All completely healthy, ate their wheaties and Vitamin C, then suddenly went all human skeleton and dropped three weeks later in the same town." The blonde informed, looking over the article. "I vote mystical sickness."

She sounded so sure. Sam, however, had his fair share of doubt.

"Or maybe ... _regular_ sickness?"

The slayer frowned at that. "Well, maybe." She conceded, shrugging. "But no one can figure out what kind of disease it is. They can't treat it and look, there's a pattern. Victims all in the guy club, three weeks, weird little suction markings?" Buffy insisted, meaningful.

Sam wasn't convinced.

The blonde sighed. "Look, _you're_ the ones who hit the road hit-or-miss style. Don't give me any flack for just finally embracing the philosophy."

 _Point taken._ Abandoning his own surfing, Sam maneuvered around and leaned behind her to read the article himself. He still hadn't been entirely sure if this was a case, but after a few moments of in-depth reading, the hunter decided there was potential. He knew Buffy was at least _trying_ to do things their way.

"Are there any other outbreaks in Idaho or is just that town?" The hunter questioned.

"Hold on. I'll check ..." Buffy began, frowning in concentration.

In a mishap of Buffy's, the screen abruptly flashed red. Sounds-effects of a gong and woman moaning greeted them from the new front page. Several busty, scantily-clad Asian women stared back at them in-between big, bolded letters of _'BustyAsianBeauties'_ . European porn music played in the background.

Sam and Buffy stared, speechless. He dared a quick glance at Buffy and knew from the look on her face she knew what this was. Self-conscious of the situation, the hunter immediately took rein of the laptop and closed down the site.

An awkward beat passed. Buffy just stared. She pushed the laptop away. " ... _Okay_. I think that's enough research for me." She remarked flatly, rising from the chair. "I'm gonna go. Shower, down bleach, possibly gouge out my eyes. Wash this skeeze off before I catch something." She deadpanned.

Sam watched as the slayer stalked away. Mild embarrassment pricked the hunter, only because he was related to Dean, before quickly shelving the whole thing and resuming research on the potential Idaho case.

* * *

~~Dean~~

"What do you mean you got nothing?" Dean grumbled.

"I mean I'm _working_ on it. Like I said before, like a thousand times." Kevin answered irritably, sitting at the desk in his room facing Dean.

Frustration surged in Dean. "Well, work faster! Decrypt it already!" His expression turned stern. "Things are bad out there! The bad guys ain't gonna wait for us."

" _Seriously?_ I can't help it. If I'm not fast enough for you, why don't you do it?" Kevin responded defensively. Dean immediately faltered. The black-haired boy gave him a cutting look. "Exactly. It's only me. I'm doing the best I can. Just chill out." He grumbled.

Taking in the clearly still overworked prophet, Dean felt somewhat chagrined. He just couldn't stand all this waiting around. Labolas and Crowley were still on the lose. Kevin may feel pressured, but the thing was so did he.

Dean took in a deep breath. "Kevin ... if we don't have the right half of the tablet, then just tell me. We need to know what we're doing!"

" _I_ don't even know what I'm doing." Kevin countered pointedly. "I'm right at the spot where the break is. Bits and pieces of the phrases are missing. I have literally to puzzle it all out to figure out what it is."

"So it's a dick version of _Head's Up_. Nothing for brainy Kevin Tran." Dean said dismissively.

"Like I said, I'm trying. I already lost all my notes thanks to Crowley. And honestly ... I-I'm not really that sure we have all we're looking for." The black-haired boy responded uncomfortably.

"So we _don't_ have the full _Hunter Olympics_?"

"No, I ... I don't know." Kevin shook his head, uncertainty in his voice.

Dean was getting impatient again. " _Kev_ ..."

"There's only a couple lines left, okay? That's not a lot. Especially to cover three trials. I'll still do it, but ..." The prophet broke off with a sigh. "Basically what I'm saying is chances are we're going to need the other half."

Anger and disappointment hit Dean. Not that he hadn't braced himself for that for weeks now. He sighed. " ... What about the prophecy?" He asked wearily.

Kevin just shook his head.

The Winchester said nothing, frustrated and more uneasy than ever. He at least hoped to get more info on that stupid prophecy. If he was about to get screwed over, he at least wanted to know how he was screwed. Labolas had to be at heart of it who was still running loose somewhere. Dean wasn't getting a good night's sleep anytime soon.

" ... You're really worried about it, aren't you?" Kevin began suddenly. "The prophecy."

Dean was unsure how to respond. "Well, prophecies aren't exactly gift cards." He muttered.

"And Labolas. You think it's about him." The prophet pointed out, his gaze on him intent.

That got Dean again. He shrugged awkwardly. "Can't even kill the bitch. Well, feels like it anyway. He's a whole new level of freak." Immediately he hardened. "But that's why you're our Plan A, okay? We'll take out Labolas and you'll be ace. Gank Crowley on the way too, just for the hell of it."

Even with his "give-'em-hell attitude" at his best, Kevin wasn't moved. He looked nervous. " ... Sam said closing the gates might not stop Labolas ..."

The hunter faltered at that a second, but quickly pushed it back down. "Sam thinks too much. I say a demon's a demon. You take this bitch down, you'll send Labolas and every one of those miserable bastards back to the Fiery Gates, you understand me?" Dean declared very adamantly, looking at him sternly.

Kevin still looked unsure, but nodded. "I'll figure out the last two lines. If it doesn't have anything ... then I guess it's your guys' turn." He swiveled his chair back to his desk with a sigh. "It's not like I need to be anywhere else."

Dean stood with crossed arms, watching.

"Dean ..." Kevin said after a few moments, back still facing him. "You know I can't exactly concentrate with you _standing right there_." The prophet stressed, exasperation in his voice.

The Winchester scowled. Finally realizing he wasn't helping, Dean went to leave. He paused at the door. " ... You're doing good, Kevin. Keep it up, but don't overdo it. Eat. Sleep." He said lamely, privately apologetic for pushing him so hard. "We go out again, there's leftover Kung-Pao chicken in the fridge."

"Thanks, _Dad_." Kevin answered sarcastically.

Dean gave him one last unamused look before he finally left, leaving Kevin to his work.

He paused outside the door, troubled. Without Kevin around to put on a confident front, his worries seeped through. What if Sam was right and the gates wouldn't apply to Labolas? Sure, they can send all the other demons back to Hell ... but there'd still be apocalypse because there would still be Labolas.

 _Wouldn't that just take the shine off the one and only win we've ever had. Classic._ The hunter thought with a grimace. It would be awesome to get rid of all the demons that killed Mom, killed Dad, killed _him_ and in general just made him and Sam's lives total hell. Except Labolas. Because they never got that lucky.

Dean knew they had to work harder. Find anything other than closing the gates to beat Labolas. Something was coming. Something bad. He knew they had to be ready and work harder than ever. No slacking or kicking back. Just work.

 _Just work?_ Dean reflected incredulously. He had _always_ found ways to blow off steam in past, even in an apocalypse. Now he couldn't even remember the last time he actually did. Ironically he hadn't real "fun" in a while. Well, unless you counted porn. He hadn't even had sex since—

 _God, what happened to me?_ Dean thought in horror. He used to be the _fun_ one between him and Sam. Now he was high-strung, Workaholic Guy? The hell?

The _really_ scary part? Deep down, he knew why.

The truth was Dean hadn't really had inclination towards _anything_ that didn't involve killing monsters since Purgatory. He still had nightmares of the place at least a few times a month. Running around, killing, never knowing he was going to live another day. Even awake it was sometimes like he was still trapped there. He was always on edge now. That year in Purgatory had left a mark. Dean didn't think he'd ever be the same.

The hunter deflated, mourning the slow death of his easygoingness. _I gotta break this dry spell fast. A hook-up_ _, a strip club, a concert, somethin'. It's a frickin' emergency._ Dean thought meaningfully, _vowing_ that to himself. Apocalypse or no apocalypse ... he at least needed a fraction of old Dean back.

Dean shook his head. "Bottle. Uncork. _Now_." He muttered feelingly.

Dean left behind Kevin's room and headed to find Sam. The Winchester had a slight chance of course when he saw Buffy in the hall, walking in the opposite direction. She kept going, clearly having no intention to stop and chat. Dean, however, was a different story.

"Hey." He said as she tried to pass him.

Buffy stopped and stood there. Finally the blonde sighed, turning to acknowledge him with an expression nothing short of resigned. "I run from the skeeze ... and the skeeze comes back." She commented wryly, putting her hands on her hips.

"Hello to you too." Dean answered, confused and a bit miffed by the reaction.

"So was your nagfest with Kevin actually _worth_ it or was it just him banging his head against the wall?" The slayer queried flatly.

The hunter was embarrassed. " _Hey_. I got _info_." He said defensively. Buffy raised a skeptical brow and Dean caved. "Okay, so I got a lot of jack. And what I did get it, it ain't good."

" _What_ now?" The blonde asked.

"It's the frickin' tablet. Kevin doesn't think he's got full coverage. Our half would have all the useless parts." Dean told her bitterly, his frustration swelling at the possibility. He leaned against the hallway railing, crossing his arms over it.

"And the other half is ...?" The slayer prompted, following.

Dean snorted. "Where else? With _Crowley_. He's the whole reason it even broke in the first place."

Buffy regarded him, gripping the railing with one hand. "So you have to get it back." She said calmly.

The Winchester scoffed. "Yeah. Let me just call up the _King of Hell_. He'll hand it right over. Mail it to us in a pink satin-y ribbon with bon-bons and a basket of _muffins_ while he's at it." Dean said sarcastically. "It's complicated. He's in hiding. Whatever the hell _hiding_ is."

"So go through any demon dive bars for information. There's always a demon or snitch you can make cry uncle." The slayer replied with ease.

Dean gave her a skeptical look. "Demon bars?"

A little frown came to Buffy's face. "You don't have those?"

"You _do_?" Dean said incredulously.

The blonde frowned deeper, then shook her head. "Right. Okay. Well, did you try the crossroad thingy you were talking about before? Isn't that supposed to be like a demon beacon?"

Dean scoffed. " _Been_ trying that, sister. None of them are talking. Apparently whatever the hell we do to them, Crowley does it ten times worse."

"Yeah. Demons pretty much have a Master's Degree in torture." Buffy said with a nod. "But there has to be a weak link somewhere. There always is."

The hunter hardly felt satisfied. "Yeah, well, we don't got time for that. You think Crowley and Labolas are just gonna be kicking back this whole time, knitting sweaters and watching _ESPN_?"

"No. It's gonna get worse." Buffy agreed grimly. She looked back at him. "But Crowley wants something from you. Kevin. And the longer you have him, the crankier he's gonna get. And you know what I love about cranky monsters? They're careless. _He'll_ slip up. Next thing you know he'll bring the fight to you."

Dean paused, thoughtful. "... Maybe. He did already almost barbeque Kevin just to get him out. That's not his style." He straightened. "Thing is, I ain't trying to wait for him. And if Crowley's got the right half, I _definitely_ ain't waiting for him. We need it."

" ... But you _do_ still have Kevin. If he does have the right half, at least Crowley can't crack it. It's practically just _Flintstone_ décor. As long as you keep Kevin, that's not gonna change." Buffy pointed out.

Dean knew that, but didn't feel much better. "Yeah, maybe. It's still annoying." He grumbled. He shook his head. "I swear, the sooner we get that half back and get rid of him and the other demons, the frickin' better it'll be for _everyone_."

The slayer watched him searchingly. " ... You'll get there. Might take a while, but ... you will." She said with confidence.

The hunter glanced at her. Over the past month, he developed a special kind of respect for Buffy. She gave good advice and understood the pressure him and Sam were under to an occasionally creepy degree. He hadn't met a female hunter like her. There was such a perplexing maturity and hardness about her. Honestly Dean constantly forgot she was ten years younger than him.

A moment passed as the two looked at each other. The blonde was the one who broke it, looking down at her hands. "I, um ... I found a monster hunt. Or at least potential monster hunt." Buffy mentioned suddenly, her tone a bit stilted.

" _You_ found a case?"

The blonde nodded, looking back at him. "Idaho. Potential _Omega Man_ deal, but y'know, less on the zombies. Supernatural sickness."

The Winchester paused to process, still surprised. "Well, what did Sam say about it?"

"Sam thinks it's doable. He's looking through it." She confirmed. "Anyway, I found it, which is good for business. Do I get an Honor Hunter Badge in your Monster Scout Club now?" She asked pointedly, looking bored.

Dean scoffed. "Sweetheart, you'll get that when you prove you're out of your world's hunter zone."

The slayer stiffened. Annoyance was on her face, but when she spoke her tone was cool. "So I'll prove it. I'll go."

That gave Dean pause. He couldn't help but be wary despite himself. The memory of her mistake with the vampire was fresh. What if this case was another monster they had in common and she couldn't adjust to the different methods? He wasn't sure he was ready to risk Buffy messing up and putting herself and them in danger in the process.

She clearly sensed his reservations. Buffy's expression hardened. "I found this, I come with. And if you try to stop me, l'll just go by myself."

Instant aggravation hit Dean. Immediately he felt the urge to argue and put her in her place, but up against the look in her eye he knew better than to bother. He gave a short, frustrated sigh. " _One_ slip up, Princess ... and you're benched." He told her very firmly, fixing her with a look.

The blonde rolled her eyes. "Aye, aye, Captain. Not that you were ever _really_ my captain."

"I'm just looking at it on-the-job. We can't have any distractions." Dean said seriously.

"Job Man, huh?" Buffy said flatly. The hunter shrugged. She crossed her arms. "Fitting coming from the guy with _BustyAsianBeauties_ in his _colorful_ google history ..."

There a lot of different ways Dean could've responded to that. Clever, witty, _effective_ ways. But hindsight was a bitch and Dean could only tell you that every single one of those ways only came to him much, much later.

What he actually did was stare like an idiot, floored. Dean opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Buffy was giving him an unimpressed look, which just made it that much worse. With a bored roll of her eyes, she continued on her way. Dean avoided looking at her, rooted to the spot, the awkwardness level rising as the blonde walked past him without so much as a dismissal.

 _Yep. Those are points with her I am_ not _getting back._ The hunter thought, feeling it in his core.

Still slightly spun from the unexpected moment, Dean went to kitchen and immediately got a beer. He found his brother in the exact place he had left him: at his laptop reading something intently. Sam raised his head, taking the other beer Dean brought. "Hey, so look at this—" He began.

"Yeah, uh, case in Idaho. She told me. Brownie points." The older Winchester cut to the chase, twisting the cap off his beer. "Did you have to let Buffy go through my laptop without telling me? Now she thinks I'm some perverted, porn-obsessed freak."

"You _are_ a perverted, porn-obsessed freak." Sam said point-blank.

Dean frowned. "Well, _yeah,_ but ... fishing." He answered meaningfully, sipping his beer.

"Dean, you have _zero_ chance with her."

The older Winchester thought that over. Honestly he didn't know. Dean knew she was attracted to him. She _had_ almost kissed him in the bar and there had been plenty of sparks in the pool game. They got along more than fine then. Now Buffy was back to her lovable, standoffish self. So whatever the hell _any_ of that meant, only she knew.

He shrugged. "Eh, maybe. But she is fun." Dean replied a bit fondly, smirking. "Either way ..." He went on, sitting in a chair close to Sam and crossing his legs on the table. "I'm open all hours." He finished, taking a long swig of his beer.

Sam sighed and went to the case. Dean listened as his brother covered a mysterious outbreak with five deaths in five months in a small Idaho town called Sandpoint. He regarded the whole thing with cynicism. "And are we so sure this isn't some kind of CDC thing?"

His little brother shrugged. "We've gone out before for less."

"Fine. But if this is just the new and improved Mad Cow Disease, then drinks are on you two." He deadpanned. The hunter shook his head. "Blondie'd take anything with a question mark and call it freaky if you ask me."

"She's _trying_ , Dean. A _lot_ more than she used to. I think she deserves a chance." Sam defended her.

The older Winchester considered, then shrugged and drank his beer. "Not much of a choice anyway. She's gonna do it, with or without us. And if it is something, Buffy's just gonna be loose cannoning herself in whatever batch of trouble come every Tuesday. Let's just hope she doesn't pull the same crap she did with that vampire."

The younger hunter sobered. "It is a bit soon ... but maybe that's not a bad thing."

"It's not?" Dean still had some doubts.

"Look, she messed up badly in that nest. I'm not saying she didn't. But she's _good_ , Dean! I mean, the way she moves, the way she fights. She could probably kick our ass." Sam argued, entirely matter-of-fact.

"I'll believe it when I see it." Dean said coolly in response to the last part as he nodded, sipping his beer nonchalantly.

His brother shrugged. "I'm just saying ... give her a shot. She's earned it."

The older hunter paused. "... Yeah." Dean admitted. "She is somethin', alright. Like the ... frickin' Lady Gaga of hunting." He remarked with feeling. "College, minimum-wage ... did you know she actually stayed in one town? Those friends of hers are actual damn _Scoobies_. Ran around with them solving cases since high school. Never heard of a hunter like that."

"Or one with an _army_." Sam added.

"Or that." The older Winchester tilted his head in agreement. "But she had a total superhero, secret identity thing going on. Her life was a hell of a lot different from ours." Slightly overwhelmed, he took another large swig of his beer.

The younger hunter shrugged. "So ... part of her life was normal. But the other part was just like ours, Dean."

"That's what I don't get." Dean began candidly, serious now. "Buffy's Miss Half and Half. Half picket-fence, half crazy. Since when has any hunter, _ever_ , had it both ways growing up like that? It's frickin' weird."

Sam shrugged again, looking a bit at a loss himself. "You _did_ say Lady Gaga of hunting."

"Damn straight!" The older Winchester reaffirmed heartily.

Buffy's revelation about her life had been knawing at him privately ever since. When he wasn't busy being too confused to understand it, Dean _envied_ it. He had never known what it was like growing up to stay in one place with friends just as crazy as you. It was always easy come, easy go. A lot of loneliness and a lot of secrets. Over and over again until Dean finally got too used to it to envision anything else.

"It just ... throws you for a loop a little. A hunter like that? You'd think that wouldn't even _exist_."

Sam said nothing, his gaze thoughtful as he looked beyond him in the direction of the bunker's staircase. " ... I think she's a lot like us." He stated simply.

Dean didn't respond. Deep down, that's what got him most of all. Buffy had led a completely different life growing up, but there was something about her at the same time that felt kindred. She had a much more stable life yet still seemed like she's been through just as much hell and back. Knowing that _now_ , he just couldn't figure her out. How could someone who had everything he and Sam didn't still carry so much pain?

* * *

~~Sam~~

 _*Sandpoint, Idaho*_

"I didn't expect FBI here ..." A balding medical examiner said as he led suited up Sam and Dean through the morgue. "We've had the CDC at this place like crazy since the deaths started. Doesn't seem like your guy's area of expertise."

Sam was ready for it. "We're checking for any signs of toxins. Our bosses figured if it CDC's still having trouble, then it was time for a different approach." He explained, which sounded half-reasonable.

Dean nodded. "Just making sure. No one needs another wacked out poisoner. We got too many of 'em."

The older man gave them a brief sidelong glance before veering them into one of the storage rooms. "Well, with the things have been going ..." He began tersely, pulling out a body drawer. He gave a weary shake of his head. " ... Lord knows we need all the help we can get."

The man sighed and lifted the sheet, revealing the victim. Sam took in the sallow, discolored skin and the bones jutting out sharply in all angles. The man who might've not been much older than him and Dean looked unnaturally shrunken, like he died of starvation instead of disease. A literal human skeleton.

 _He looks like a Holocaust victim._ Sam thought, slightly disturbed.

The medical examiner grimaced. "Darryl Harper. Thirty-five. A little over three weeks ago at the height of his prime." He described in a clinical tone. "When he got sick, it was nothing alarming. Just typical common flu symptoms. After the first week, he got a fever. Second week, thinning bones, weight loss. Third week ... rapid muscle and cell degeneration like you wouldn't believe." His expression grew meaningful. "By the end of the week—"

"Living Dead Guy turned actual dead guy." Dean summed up.

The man nodded. "Nothing could've been more sudden. He was in perfect health. Any check-ups leading up ... my god, there was no explanation for it." He hook his head, mystified. "His cells just started ... _dying_."

Sam's hunter-wired mind activated. "What about those?" He pointed to the strange dark markings surrounded Darryl's neck and a little of his face area, circular and painful. "They look like bruises."

"Almost like _love bites_." His brother made it sound like a joke, but Sam knew otherwise. They exchanged a brief, meaningful glance.

The medical examiner shook his head. "No, it's not from a human ... and it doesn't match the bite of any wildlife in the area. It's a symptom, it seems like."

"So the hickey pox. Did all the other victims have it?" The brother prodded.

The examiner frowned slightly at Dean's unprofessional speak, but answered. "Yeah, every one. Same symptoms, same span of death, all of it." The man shrugged. "At first they thought it was a common cold or shingles, but none of it ever took. The doctors are favoring a new strain of lupus ... but to be really honest, no one knows."

Dean nodded, staring at the body intently. Sam scrutinized it, trying to find bite marks in the bruising. The examiner carried on. "I appreciate the FBI looking into this ... but all toxicology tests came back negative. We're still running tests on Darryl, but—"

"Could be undetectable. Gotta look just in case." Dean justified easily.

"We've already run dozens of tests. I don't think you'll—" The examiner voiced skeptically.

" _Hey_. _Badge_." Dean raised his badge as he gave him a stern look. "We're _FBI._ We got _connections_."

"If it's untraceable, we'll figure out." Sam's tone was more even than Dean's but still firm. "Hey, uh, is there any chance we can look at the toxicology results of all the victims?" At the medical examiner's cautious look, he clarified. "Just to double-check."

The man nodded. "Sure. I'll gather them up for you."

Sam nodded his thanks. His brother spoke again. "Can we have a second to investigate the body?"

The medical examiner eyed them thoughtfully a second, but didn't complain and left them a moment of privacy.

"Dude. _Connections?"_ Sam scoffed as soon as they were alone. Did his brother _always_ have to try too hard?

The other hunter shrugged. "He was getting nosy! You gotta sell it, Sammy."

" _Yeah_." Sam said sarcastically. He shook his head and got out the EMF from his jacket, moving it carefully over the Darryl's body. It didn't react. He moved it across it a few times just to be sure. Still nothing. "No EMF. So ghost sickness is out." He declared with a shrug.

"Can't be a witch, not even the most OCD one. Every one of the vics died the same way the same amount of time. But we got this. " Dean gripped Darryl's neck and moving it to get a better look at the marks. "This isn't some rash or chicken pox crap. Those are bite marks."

Sam moved closer, analyzing it with him. It was bruising undeniably. It almost looked a suction mark, but after a closer look there was signs of serrated teeth in it. It didn't look life-threatening though. It was more like a nibble. "So ... they _are_ hickeys?"

Dean scoffed. "Yeah. _Monster_ hickeys. Whatever left it behind, it wasn't human."

The younger hunter frowned, studying Darryl's thin and skeletal body. Sam shook his head. "It can't be that simple."

"Hey, I'm a hickey expert. Trust me, I can tell the difference."

"Dean, this isn't about if him and the other vics have _hickeys_." Sam said in exasperation. "Look. He's nothing but skin and bones. In just _three weeks_." He stressed out forcefully, gesturing to the body. "Yeah, maybe you're right and that is what this is ... but why do you think it's _there_?"

The older Winchester nodded grimly. "Yep. Something's been feeding off 'em."

"Any ideas?"

Dean looked at him a second, then shrugged. "Right now I'm just at 'monster'. Monster means case." He simplified. The older hunter turned back to Darryl's body and eyed it thoughtfully. "I'll be damned. Blondie had it in her, after all."

 _ **####**_

Nothing more in the autopsy pointed to what caused it, leaving the brothers to take pictures of the body in hopes of matching the bite marks to a monster. Sam talked with the medical examiner afterwards over the toxicology results and was promised to have them all sent to him, including Darryl's when it was cleared.

By around noon, the brothers were heading back to the car. A certain little blonde, dressed in casual clothing and looking more than a little bored, was leaning up against the back of the Impala waiting for them.

" _Finally._ I was just about to go in there. It is _my_ job." Buffy remarked as soon they met her, irritation obvious.

"Alright, alright. Cool it." Dean admonished levelly. "FBI partners are supposed to be in twos. We can't get away with carrying you around everywhere _all_ the time."

The blonde frowned. "I'm a third wheel? I thought I was more of a spoke."

"Fine. You're a spoke. Hell, you're tiny enough." His older brother muttered.

Sam smiled. "It's nothing personal. It's just ... sometimes, we shouldn't risk raising up anymore questions."

"Fine by me. I'm not built for undercover anyway. Just old-fashioned slayage." The blonde agreed flippantly. She crossed her arms and suddenly turned serious. "But I need this. I _need_ to get better. So whatever this is, if it's in the supernatural aisle, then I'm not sitting this one out. Third Wheel Buffy or Spoke Buffy."

There had been a different, deeper weariness Sam saw in Buffy that day with vampire. Now there was still that same weariness in her eyes, but this time with weathered determination. It relieved him, proving to Sam exactly what he had told Dean: she was worth a shot in this case.

"So ... is it?" The small slayer asked a bit uncertainly. "In _your_ supernatural aisle?"

Sam nodded. "You were right about it being mystical. It just wasn't a sickness. Bruises, bite marks ... all the victims had it."

"Not to mention the way Darryl looked when he died. It was like Matthew McConaughey in _Dallas Buyers Club_ , and just as creepy." Dean described with feeling. "So kudos. You found a monster. Don't know what the hell kind _it_ is, but it's a monster alright."

Buffy's eyes lit up in triumph. "I knew it. I _knew_ it was monster! None of you believed me!"

"You were right." Sam reiterated, entertained by her reaction.

Dean scoffed. "You find _one_ article on a couple of health concerns and it's like you just cracked the Da Vinci Code." He said in amusement.

The blonde slayer gave him a look. " _Hey_. I just came from a different universe where it's still 2006 and I'm stuck in one where it's 2015. You want weird, I _know_ weird." Buffy remarked feelingly.

Dean started at that, a deep frown on his face. He shook his head. "No argument there." He resigned, looking a bit overwhelmed.

"So what now?" Buffy prompted.

"We go through the homestead. This wasn't just another monster fast-food run. These guy was wasting away almost a full month before they dropped. Someone _had_ to notice something." Dean reasoned.

"You're right. This thing is feeding. It's leaving a trail." Buffy said.

Sam nodded. "We'll start with Darryl Harper's family."

"Yeah, but first thing's first ... _gas_." Dean broke in, pointing at his brother with a stern look. "Baby needs her pick-up. A thousand mile drive from here and Kansas ain't easy on her." The older hunter stated, walking to the driver's seat.

Buffy watched him go, her face scrunched up in a frown. " _Baby_?" She looked slightly confused at first, then realized. "You named your car?"

Dean stopped and turned to look at her. "Don't judge me." He answered, mock-defensive.

The blonde still looked definitely judgy, but it melted back in a frown. She shrugged. "Guess I can't really, considering _Mr. Pointy_ ..." She admitted casually.

Sam stared. Extreme self-consciousness swept over him and he cleared his throat loudly, trying to alleviate the awkwardness. _Dean's gonna say something ..._ He thought, resigned.

"Wow." Dean commented lamely, blinking at her. "Didn't think you'd be open about that kind of thing ..." He said, looking genuinely surprised.

Sam, even more uncomfortable, looked away. He knew it.

Buffy seemed confused. "Well, why wouldn't I be ..." The slayer trailed away, her eyes widening. His brother smirked at the look of mortification on her face. "It's a _stake_!" The blonde whined. "Not something like ... oh, _god_." She looked away, overcome with disgust. "Is _everything_ a dirty joke to you?"

 _Well, it did kinda sound wrong._ Sam couldn't help but think. He was the last person in the world to _ever_ excuse Dean's dirty mind, but this time there wasn't much flack to give him.

Dean grinned. "You named a damn _stake_?" He sounded like he was on the verge of actually laughing.

Buffy glowered at Dean. Sam could only roll his eyes. If only Buffy could be like him and be completely unaffected by Dean's crap. Training yourself in that was a must if you spent twenty-four hours a day with him like Sam did.

The blonde slayer huffed. "Shouldn't we be meeting the dead guy's family or something? Y'know, _duty_ things." She grumbled. "Assuming Dean here actually knows what _that_ is ..." She drawled condescendingly, walking away and piling herself into the Impala's backseat.

"She's a _real_ ray of sunshine, isn't she, Sammy?" Dean said sardonically. Noticing Sam's glare, his older brother frowned. "What?"

Sam let out an exasperated breath. " ... You're like the kid in kindergarten that kept pushing the girl he liked into the sandbox." He described, disdainful.

"Oh, _shut up_. I am not." The older hunter grumbled immediately. He shoved past his brother, going to the car. " _Come on_."

* * *

~~Buffy~~

Buffy exited the convenience store, coming back with snacks while the brothers got gas. Since she sadly spent so much time with these two the past month and a half, she already knew in general what they liked. Most of it was beer, energy drinks, and junk food while throwing in water and a few other things for herself.

She looked at the scammed credit card with a frown. "One of these days these things aren't gonna work ... _one_ of these days ..." She muttered superstitiously.

Dean was filling his car up with gas Sam sat inside, visible by the door his older brother left open. " ... all the addresses and contacts. Turns out Darryl's got wife." The blonde slayer overhead Sam as she approached, who looked like he was going through paper.

Dean nodded distractedly as Buffy came up. "I come bearing snacks." She remarked lightly, holding out the bag. The hunter quickly took it and began rummaging through it.

Dean was looking increasingly unsatisfied. "Where's the pie?"

"I got donuts!" Buffy replied flippantly, pointing to the bag. The older hunter stared at her in disbelief and the blonde continued. "It's in the _pastry_ family. Besides, it's perfect. Nothing screams FBI like powdered donut face."

Dean paused, deep irritation on his face. " ... Those are cops." He said tersely.

The slayer shrugged. "Well, I thought it was a nice touch." Noticing his expression, she rolled her eyes. "I got the basics. Your junk food ... and Sam's actual food. And all the booze you can drink like water." Buffy snatched the bag back and fished out a water bottle. "You seriously have the most unhealthy diet of anyone I've ever met."

"I've been telling him that for years. Funny how he doesn't seem to listen." Sam supplied flatly, joining them.

The slayer handed the bag to Sam. "You should be fat and squishy with a beer-gut and a blood pressure problem." Buffy told Dean matter-of-factly, drinking her water.

Dean looked offended. "I work out!"

 _I've noticed._ In actuality, he had great physique. He was big and muscular and all sinewy. And his arms ... he had _really_ nice arms. But Buffy couldn't think about that. "Yeah ... but there's still General Cirrhosis and his wacky cousin Diabetes just waiting for their chance." She punned lamely.

"Cirrhosis or diabetes?" The older Winchester said incredulously. He scoffed, turning away to pull the pump out of the Impala. "Yeah. _That'd_ be ironic."

Buffy didn't know what to take from that. "You said something about Darryl having a wife?" She said to Sam.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. We got her address. We start with her, that's where the trail's most fresh."

The blonde tried to be motivated. She was never going to live down what happened with the vampire, but it wasn't going to happen again. She was going to get her edge back as the Slayer, alternate universe-bound or otherwise. Everything in her though still just wished she was home. That was where she was _supposed_ to be.

Buffy couldn't hold her thoughts back anymore. "Your whole _X-Files_ thing ..." The words came out in a sigh, getting both brothers' attention. She gave a tired smile. "It's just different. Kinda weird, getting up every day and not hearing a _'ma'am!_ ' or going 'ten-hut'!"

" _Weird?"_ Dean scoffed. "Like being top general for a bunch of super girls at twenty-five?" He gave her a meaningful look. "Yeah. _We're_ the weird ones."

Buffy didn't have much to say to that. "I have my own definition." She answered innocently.

"So you really have your own army? Like a whole military operation, just of girls?" Sam asked with some disbelief.

"Well, we don't really go _'ten-hut'_. It's not like an actual military regimen. I-I don't know anything about that stuff. It's more like an organization, but with drills and special demon teams and units in different countries—" Realizing that actually sounded a lot like the Initiative, Buffy caught herself and frowned. " ... It's faux-military." She summed up lamely, nodding weakly.

Sam was fascinated. "Wow. So you travel all over the world." There was a note of wonder in his voice.

Buffy was alienated. "Travelling the world is overrated." The slayer said, trying to sound modest. She looked to the cars and people going in and out of the gas station distantly. "You start to miss the greedy and self-destructive charm of good old American values." Buffy remarked, honest despite her joking tone.

The younger Winchester smiled in amusement. "The American Dream."

"So you went _Saved by the Bell_ to _Saved by Bell: College Years_ to ... _Saved by the Bell_ : _X-Mansion_ Years." Dean mentioned suddenly, his tone flat.

The blonde gave a wry smile. "It's a good thing my life is so linear."

"It is ... pretty different." Sam admitted. "But running an operation of super-powered hunters for _three_ years at _your_ age? That's _amazing_. I mean, think of how many monsters you've been _killing_. Seriously, I'm impressed."

Buffy tried not to squirm under the sincere admiration in Sam's eyes. He was sweet ... but he didn't know. He didn't know about the dead slayers. He didn't know about losing Dana. He didn't know she got her girls banned from the U.S. He didn't know about the military being out to get them because of _her_. Would either of them think she was so great after that?

She half-shrugged. "It's no big. I have my friends. They helped organize all the important stuff. I just give speeches." Buffy downplayed, feeling in no position to take credit for anything. Discomfort growing, she quickly changed the topic. "We should really go and talk to the wife."

Dean exchanged a quick look with Sam, then shrugged. "Yeah, we're about done. We'll roll on out."

The younger Winchester nodded, turning to put away the grocery bag in the back of the car. Buffy sighed and drank from her water, bummed by talk of her friends and all the responsibilities she left behind. Just then, Dean wandered over to her in a purposeful way that made her wary.

"So ... " The older hunter began, leaning comfortably close to her against the Impala. "Your friends. The ones that stuck with you from pimples and prom dates days to all the way up to slayer _Hogwarts_. Were they hunters too?" There was nothing in his tone but casualness, even if his expression was a little intent.

Buffy scrutinized him. Ever since she almost kissed Dean, she's been _waiting_ for him to bring it up. Surprisingly he hadn't and it was going on four days already. His behavior with her hadn't changed at all. Not that that was a _bad_ thing. Buffy was relieved ... mostly. It was just ... unexpected. She didn't want to sound really shallow or vain or anything, but she was used to guys either pushy with her or following her around with puppy dog eyes or both. Dean did neither.

Shaking it off quickly, the slayer answered. "I guess _now_ you could say that ... I guess. But before I met them, they were just regular people. Giles knew about monsters, but he was my watcher. He was more like a Slayer's Walking Almanac."

"You're kidding." Dean exclaimed incredulously.

Buffy shook her head. "Nope. I was the weirdo of the batch." She answered with ease.

The older hunter still looked disbelieving. "A whole bunch of amateurs, who didn't know _jack_ about _anything_ , just tagging along and playing monster hunt." Dean sounded disdainful. He shook his head. "Must've been one hell of hazard job, trying to keep their necks outta trouble."

For a traitorous moment, early years in mind, Buffy agreed. She came back to herself. "They got better. Even without training or instinct or ... occasional coordination ... they weren't that bad." At the Winchester's still unconvinced look, she turned defensive. "I've been fighting alongside them for nine years, Dean. They've helped me save the world loads of times. They've _saved_ my life."

"Your friends helped _and_ made it through apocalypses?" Dean sounded like he couldn't comprehend it.

"I couldn't have done it without them." Buffy replied, shooting him a challenging look.

Despite her attitude, Dean was surprisingly devoid of any. He just looked at her searchingly. His gaze was intense and scrutinizing, but she had no idea what he was trying to figure out. After a moment that felt like forever, the hunter broke the spell and gave a half-hearted shrug. "Well, in _our_ experience, ... they're better off without you."

The serious words startled Buffy. The blonde studied the older Winchester's face, trying to read the meaning behind it. He held her stare a second and before Buffy could utter a word, Dean withdrew.

"We should get going."

Buffy stood there as the hunter went to the driver's seat, baffled. Instinctively she looked over to Sam for any kind of explanation. He caught her eye, but his expression was as unreadable as his brother's and he just went inside the car. She was left only with questions.

She was too weary to push the subject. Her thoughts heavy and even more burdened after reminiscing. " ... They're my friends." She stated quietly as Dean sat down in the driver's seat, the car door still open. "We've been through a lot. I've been gone so long ... I just wish I was there to make sure everything's alright." She murmured.

 _Then it's back to General Buffy. Terrorist rap, government paranoia, friends with a Slayer Organization hyper-efficiency kick, a sister that hates you and just ... cutting up your life for breakfast and feeding it to the slayers._ Buffy remembered, feeling terribly sad. It was either be alone and out-of-place in a different universe or go back to _that._ She didn't know what was worse.

Dean looked at her, his attention intent but hard to label. Finally he shook his head. "A month and a half ain't that long." He remarked matter-of-factly. "If your friends lasted _this_ long ... Whatever's going on back there, they'll survive." He told her simply.

Buffy said nothing. She tried to believe it. Her friends were tough. So were the slayers. But no matter what Dean said or how miserable she's truly been in the Slayer Organization these past three years, only one thing stuck with her. She was the leader ... and the leader wasn't there.

 _ **####**_

Buffy worked to maintain a pokerface, dressed in her FBI disguise and in the living room between the brothers talking to the last victim's wife, Julie Harper. _Be FBI. Be serious, confident. Be FBI._

In all the times before undercover with Sam and Dean, Buffy tried not to talk much. Too often when she did nonsense came out. This time was different. This time she wasn't going to hold back. She was _determined_ to prove herself. Buffy liked to think her methods improved a _little_ bit watching the Winchesters.

If only she was like the brothers who were so good at this it was unnatural. If they weren't both practically criminals, they'd have one mean and successful career in law enforcement.

Julie Harper was staring at them with world-weary eyes. She was a tall woman in her thirties with straight black hair pulled back in a high but messy ponytail. Her bangs were styled to both sides, hanging in her face. "I-I don't understand. The doctors said Darryl died from illness."

"We're just running tests, Mrs. Harper. It's best to go through all options." Sam told her in a calm, reassuring tone.

"Did you notice anything ... _odd_ about Darryl's sickness?" Dean questioned carefully.

Julie gave a bitter huff. "You mean _besides_ my husband turning into a living skeleton and his insides getting hollowed out?" She replied scathingly, sarcasm in her voice.

Dean backpedaled a bit, a resigned look on his face at the reaction.

Buffy tested the waters. " ... That's a start." She joked weakly. "But he means ... _little_ things. Temperature change, mysterious marks, something weird. Anything else that shouldn't be there ..." The slayer pressed, giving her a probing look.

The brunette woman paused, looking them over warily. "No ... why would there be?"

Buffy couldn't quite read her. Did she seem tenser? "Nothing at all? His death perfectly in the natural category?" The small blonde interrogated. Julie hesitated. "Don't hold out on us. Please, just ... anything in the weird and freaky. We're all ears." She prompted, tone light but expression meaningful.

She sensed Sam and Dean eying her in way reminiscent of bosses evaluating an employee. She purposely didn't look at them to spare her the scowl coming.

"Mrs. Harper ... was there anyone around Darryl recently? Anyone suspicious?" There was a certain guarded look to Sam that said that he too felt Julie was holding information.

The woman was visibly uncomfortable. "No. Of course not."

Dean was staring at the woman through narrowed eyes. "Mrs. Harper. You do know it is _illegal_ to withhold information from the FBI, right?" He reminded her in a very hard and super-important tone. "Obstruction can be one hell of a fine."

Buffy almost snorted. This guy was _unbelievable_.

Julie suddenly turned indignant. "The doctors said it was medical ... are you accusing me of entertaining murder?!"

"Mrs. Harper—" Sam began.

"No one's blaming anyone." Buffy cut off, rushing to save face. Immediately she frowned. "I mean, no one besides him—anyway!" She talked awkwardly, gesturing to Dean as she spoke. "We just wanna make sure this isn't a _Poison Ivy_ deal. But not like an _actual_ _Poison Ivy_ which would just be ridiculous, but a poisoner ... or something?" She rambled, looking uncertain.

"Did you notice anyone?" Dean bit out abruptly.

Julie herself was giving the blonde a very flustered look, but snapped to at the harsh question. She still seemed annoyed, but a bit distressed now. "Every diagnosis said Darryl's death was medical ... it-it couldn't possibly be anything else. I'm sorry, Agents, but I just still don't _understand_ —"

"The autopsies did say that. Look. We know this is a sore spot for you, Mrs. Harper ..." Despite the woman clearly hiding something, Sam had scrounged up sincerity. "But this is has been going on a while. It might be misfire. We're just here to make absolutely sure."

As Sam reasoned with the widow, Dean was now glaring at Buffy. The blonde avoided his eyes, chagrined. Clearly her undercover technique still needed work. If only she was _used_ to this form of slaying. What was it about lying and going covert that made her babble like an idiot?

Sam managed to talk down the woman without giving anything away. Buffy just wanted to try 'direct' and confront Julie already to confess what she was hiding. As the slayer wrestled with that impulse, Dean stood up from the couch. "Okay if I look around?"

Julie stared at him a moment, then gave a non-committal shrug. "Go ahead."

"Why don't you come help me, _Agent_ Summers?" Dean prompted, giving her a pointed look as he walked away.

She recognized that edge. Buffy repressed an annoyed groan and focused back on Julie, fully intending to ignore him. She'd _much_ rather stay here and get more information out of her.

"You comin'?" Dean called again curtly.

Last resort-time. The slayer looked to Sam for help but as usual when it came to Dean there was none. She couldn't make a scene. She gave a eyeroll and plastered on a smile. "Sure. I _understand_ the fact you need a pair of _youthful_ eyes ..." Buffy replied patronizingly as she followed, loud enough to hear.

Sam and Julie watched them go, Sam carefully masking his discomfort and Julie just plain incredulous. Noticing the look, he quickly said, "She's new."

Dean led her upstairs. Out of eyesight and earshot in the hallway, the older hunter started. "Nice job down there. FBI ain't FBI until you got a _DC_ reference and a nice, mousy, little ramble. _Really_ sold it." He remarked scathingly, turning to face her.

"She didn't notice anything!" Buffy said defensively.

The Winchester was still stern. "Yeah, not the point. You coulda blown our cover back there." The slayer rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. "FBI agents don't ramble, _Miss Congeniality_. You gonna do this, you _gotta_ sell it."

 _Who died and made you my watcher?_ Buffy thought in exasperation. "I _will_. I'm _trying_. You know I'm new at this."

The Winchester was taking out his EMF meter. "Well, then get better. Otherwise me and Sammy are just gonna cover this part of the hunt _without_ you from now on."

The idea was almost tempting, but Buffy pushed it down. It would just be accepting the fact they were underestimating her. "... I _said_ I would." She said simply, tone flat.

Dean gave her a quick look before he was busy with the EMF again.

Her frustration amped up. "How would _you_ feel if you were uprooted from _all_ your hunter know-how, all the while getting _bossed_ around by a smug, preachy little—"

"Yeah, well, I'm not the one uprooted." Dean replied distractedly, his attention on EMF as he started to wander.

Outrage bubbled in Buffy at the dismissive attitude, but she held her tongue and merely glowered. It _boggled_ her mind how this guy—this arrogant, emotionally stunted guy—was the same guy in the bar who she traded small talk with and had something that almost resembled fun. For a second there, she actually _liked_ him.

"You gonna lend a hand with this?" The Wincheter waved his EMF meter as he turned to her. " 'Cause you _can_ just let yourself out." He mocked, giving a meaningful look.

 _Why did I almost kiss this guy? It can't be his stunning personality._

The blonde slayer sighed and threw out her arms. "What am I looking for?"

"Y'know, mysterious marks, hex bags, sulfur. Probably not gonna be the last two, but no harm making sure." Dean listed off with ease, venturing into the bathroom.

Buffy frowned. "Hex bags ... they're usually hidden, aren't they?" She checked, already moving around to look.

" _Yeah_ , hidden. Believe me when I say _anywhere_. Don't miss a single spot."

The blonde eyed Dean at the professionalism and certainty. She had to admit that she did at least like that about him. He took slaying/hunting incredibly seriously. The man knew how to do his job and was clearly very dedicated to it. Maybe a little _too_ dedicated.

Buffy broke off from the hunter to investigate. She started one of the bedrooms first, searching every crevice. She lost count of how minutes she spent in there. By the time she searched half of upstairs she looked in on Dean, who was still looking and busy with EMF. Buffy decided to go downstairs.

She found Sam covering a search of his own below, discreetly running his own EMF. The blonde slayer wandered around, still trying to investigate. She caught Julie in middle of the kitchen by the island, a mug of coffee in her hands and looking troubled.

Buffy paused. Her suspicions from earlier twitched. Cautiously she approached.

Julie seemed tenser as the slayer came up. She hesitated. "Did you find anything, Agent?" There was a slight catch in the woman's voice.

"Um, no. Nothing incriminating." Buffy replied, shaking her head.

It was hard to read the woman's reaction. "Oh. Well, I figured as much." The brunette responded lamely, turning away. "Would you like any coffee? I-I could brew some more if you—"

"No thank you. Thanks for the scavenger hunt. Now about Darryl ..." Buffy began flippantly, moving in towards the woman. "Was there _anyone_ hanging around him who was, let's say _different_ , that made you rethink this was the whole 'in-sickness' part of the vow?" Despite her casual tone, the blonde's expression was meaningful.

Julie hesitated.

"It's okay if it's a little crazy." She assured.

The woman paused, uncertain and extremely uncomfortable. "I told you all before. There wasn't _anyone_." Again, with the denying.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Alright." All patience lost, the slayer closed on in the woman. "You're hiding something and you're going to tell me. Now I've played nice. I'm not gonna keep walking on eggshells with you." Buffy went on curtly, forcing herself into threatening mode. "Who's behind this?"

The brunette seemed downright startled and a little scared. "W-what?!"

"Buffy!"

"Whoa."

Buffy turned to a shocked Sam and Dean standing in the kitchen doorway. The slayer had Julie pinned against the counter, in intimidating distance with the taller woman while holding her arm out to block avenue of escape. Though violence was not on her mind, it looked a _liittle_ compromising.

The blonde glanced back at Julie. "Those two? They're easy. They'll just drag this out with you all day. _I'm_ the one that can _really_ make you talk."

"Hey!" Dean exclaimed, offended.

Buffy ignored him. Her gaze was hard on the woman. "You know something, you tell. _Now_."

Unexpectedly Julie burst into tears. "I-I don't know, I don't know ..." She sobbed out, shaking her head repeatedly.

The sight pulled at Buffy's compassion, even as she tried to stay authoritative. "What happened?" She asked, tone softer.

The brunette stared at her, utterly lost. She shook her head again. "I don't know. I didn't wanna talk about it. I didn't wanna sound like I was—" She cut herself off, looking away with a sniffle. "There was this woman ... she-she just moved in on the street. Her name's Alice. And Darryl ... there was just something about her. The second he met her, he ... _changed_."

Buffy backed away from woman as she was speaking, out of her personal space. Sam and Dean now were huddled behind her, listening to the widow intently.

"What do you by _changed_?" Dean asked.

Pain filled Julie's face. "He started coming home late. Some nights he didn't check in. He barely spoke to me ..." She paused in extreme discomfort. "I-I knew he was cheating on me. But right after Alice came along he was getting sick." She confessed forlornly. "I didn't want to say it because I didn't want to seem irrational. Everyone said natural causes ... but it all started the _second_ she showed up." She looked up at them, tears in her eyes. "Could _she_ have killed him?" Her voice broke a bit.

Buffy felt unsure. _Did I find something to slay or just another murder case?_ That didn't sound very supernatural. Then she remembered Darryl's body had mysterious monster marks. Maybe this hadn't been for nothing.

The slayer looked to brothers, who looked to be giving this serious thought. She only hoped it wasn't a 'this-was-a-complete-waste-of-time' thought.

By that point Julie was more than cooperative and managed to get an address out of her. The trio asked a few more questions on Alice, trying to get more proof of it being a monster deal instead of a scapegoating widow, but there wasn't much. Soon enough they were leaving, thanking the woman and giving her their condolences.

"Did you find anything in there?" Buffy asked once they were outside, facing the brothers as they huddled by the Impala.

Both shook their heads. "You?" Dean asked.

"No." Buffy admitted, frowning. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say this was just a regular murder. Maybe not even a murder."

Sam nodded. "Same with us."

Before the slayer could be upset that they thought she sent them on a goose chase, Dean saved her. "Except it's not." The hunter pulled out his phone and pulled up pictures of Darryl's autopsy, handing it to her.

Buffy took it gingerly. "Touchscreen technology. Neat." The slayer commented wryly, awkwardly dabbing at the screen. While keeping up with pop culture, the technology in this universe was a lot different. She quickly realized the cheap flip phone the brothers gave her wasn't just cheap, it was way outdated.

"It ain't the 2000s anymore, _Miss Universe_." Dean reminded her, sounding slightly amused.

 _Don't I know it._ Honestly she felt a lot like she was channeling Giles these days. Everything here was technology, technology, technology. It was different and more advanced and it felt ... weird. Cool ... but weird.

As Buffy worked around a smartphone like an amateur, she managed to enlarge and go through the photos. The close-up shots of the neck stood out to her: bruising that looked a cross between a sucker mark and a hickey ... but with teeth. "This definitely isn't normal." She conceded. She handed it back to him. "Proof my slayer instinct still lives."

"So it's a monster. Alice?" Sam said, looking to both of them.

His older brother nodded. "Darryl's _'special friend'_. She's a place to start, anyway."

"It can't be Julie. She was too torn up." Buffy denied with certainty. "Alice showed up out of nowhere. It has to be her."

"Speaking of Julie ... that interrogation? Channeled a little too much _Black Mambo_ back there, huh, Uma Thurman?" He referenced, giving her a pointed look.

The slayer shrugged. "Just trying to sell it." She replied smoothly.

The phrasing was not lost on Dean. He stared at her, unable to think of a counter. Sam barely choked back a chuckle, looking between them with a smile.

Apparently his little brother's amusement at his expense was enough to jog Dean. He scowled. "Well ... test ain't passed _yet_ , remember? Still gotta work on your undercover. That means _don't_ overdo it with the pop culture reference and the jokes and all the cutesy speak. Speak _FBI_."

"How do you _speak_ FBI?" Buffy said, annoyed.

"I dunno! Just ... sound boring." The older Winchester grumbled.

Sam gave his brother a irritated look. "Dean, _you're_ still working on that."

"Yeah, maybe. But I'm not as bad as her, am I?" The older hunter responded pointedly. "Which one of us is the intern here?"

 _Intern?_ Buffy bristled at the term. It took all she had not to rebuff him.

At least Sam didn't look too impressed with Dean. Too bad that didn't mean much considering his next words.

"He _is_ right though. You _do_ need to work on speaking more professionally. You can't get nervous either." Frowning, he gestured to her. "I mean, it's bad enough how young you are ... We don't need another question."

The more she heard, the more irritated Buffy got. She was tired of being talked down to and being told things she already knew. Even Sam was guilty of the same thing his brother was. Sure, maybe she wasn't on top of things _here_. She didn't know how things worked in this universe. But uninformed and inexperienced weren't the same thing ... and she wasn't sure if Dean and Sam knew that.

"I _know_." Buffy answered tautly. She sighed, crossing her arms. "Just to check ... you guys _do_ know I'm only new to _undercover_ , right? Not the slaying."

Dean shrugged. "Like I said before, new rules. In this world, _we're_ the experts."

"It's not that simple ...!" The blonde refuted, dismayed at the response. Her frustration swelled and Buffy looked away, needing a moment. Finally she hit point of no return. "Okay." She began, resolve shooting through her as she looked at them. "How many apocalypses have you two stopped?"

"What?" Dean said incredulously.

Buffy didn't miss a beat. "How many apocalypses have you stopped?" She repeated, challenging.

Sam was frowning deep. "Are you trying to keep score or ...?" He asked in confusion.

"Just a question." The slayer replied instantly, edge still present.

Both brothers just eyed her. Buffy waited, expectant. A tense beat passed.

" ... Two." Dean answered warily.

"Oh, yeah?" The small blonde make a show of being impressed. "I hit that number when I was _seventeen_." She stressed, pinning them with a pointed and very meaningful look. Unadulterated disbelief hit both brothers, but Buffy didn't waver. "You know how many apocalypses _I've_ stopped? Try _seven._ "

Sam and Dean were now in literal shock. They just stared.

Determined to set things straight, the slayer pressed on. "Do you have any idea how many battles I've been in? How much _I've_ seen?"

Dean at this point recovered enough to least to speak. " ... Well, you're not the only one here who's been through a lot of serious crap." He told her, managing an edge to his voice.

She shook her head. "No. I'm not trying to keep score or turn this into a _'Who's got it Worse?'_ contest. I'm just setting it straight. I've lived on a portal to _Hell_ for seven years. I've _died_. _Twice_. All with very apocalyptic scenery, and I still stopped it. I'm not some little girl. I've been around the block way more than you think."

Sam and Dean were silent. Mixed emotions of shock, contemplation, and even sympathy were on their faces. Buffy just stared back steadily. She hadn't wanted to go this deep into her life, but it was better than letting them underestimate her. Even with her powers, all they saw most of the time was the cute, little lost girl tripping in a different world. She couldn't have that. If she had to unearth her demons to earn their respect, then so be it.

" ... You _died_?" Sam asked.

The blonde nodded. "Twice. But I was brought back. Obviously."

Dean scoffed. " _Dying?_ Blondie, you ain't so special on that front either."

Since Buffy was never quite sure how other people would respond to that part of her bio, she hadn't been prepared for that. " _You_?" She said a bit incredulously.

The hunter managed a wry smirk. "Yeah, a couple."

"Me too. A few times." Sam admitted with ease, nodding.

The slayer could only stare at the brothers in shock. Again, marvel at the weirdness. She had never been able relate to someone to dying and being brought without being in the undead club. _These guys are as much as a freak as I am._

Buffy snapped out of it. "Back to my point ..." She started, purposely brisk. She scrutinized them sternly. " ... You two think just because you're _older_ and been doing this longer that you're _better_." She remarked factually.

Sam's face fell. Dean's was unreadable.

"We didn't mean to come off—" Sam tried to explain.

"But you're _not_ better." The blonde went on crisply. "Y'know what? I _do_ understand. You've been killing things forever. You were playing with knives and guns when I was still playing with my Barbie Dream House. You're two normal guys who saved the world twice and lived to claim bragging rights. Of course you'd have an ego, and why shouldn't you?" Buffy acknowledged with ease.

Both brothers were appropriately surprised.

The slayer remained earnest. "You guys _do_ run the show. I'm not trying to say _I'm_ better. I know here I'm not." Buffy hardened herself. "But you're _not_ my bosses and I'm _not_ your intern. So don't _treat_ me like it."

Pause. Sam made a face of acknowledgement and nodded. "Alright, fair enough."

Dean didn't react, staring at her. Buffy raised her brows impatiently, wanting an answer. Finally he noticed. "Sure."

It sounded like Dean only half paid-attention. But she wasn't in the mood to deal with it. The blonde took in a deep breath. "We got Alice's address. We need to check it out right away." Buffy declared seriously, turning away. "The longer we take the find this monster, the more people are going to die." She said briskly as she walked to the car.

Dean and Sam watched contemplatively as Buffy entered the car.

"Sammy, I think we just found our soul sister." Dean deadpanned.

 _ **####**_

On the drive to Alice's address, with everything off her chest, Buffy was completely in the zone and ready to get the job done. Needless to say it was a pretty rude awakening when she saw a large storage truck at said address with several men moving back-and-forth, loading it up with boxes and furniture. A foreclosure sign was posted out front.

Dean hastily parked the car and they rushed out to investigate. The trio stood on the sidewalk, watching the sight with immense confusion.

"Isn't this supposed to the place?" Sam asked uncertainly.

Dean looked grim. "Yep."

"Did she give us the wrong address?" Buffy worried.

A burly, heavy-set man emerged out of the house, dressed in a casual white t-shirt and jeans while wearing a baseball hat and carrying a box." ... Let's find out." Dean said, eying the man as he started to approach him. " _Hey!_ FBI!"

Buffy and Sam hurried after. Dean was showing him the badge as they came up. The both of them consequently did the same. "What's going on with this house? Doesn't it belong to an Alice Roberts?" The older Winchester began.

"Alice Roberts?" Soft recognition entered the man's eyes. "Yeah! Well, it did anyway. She just moved out."

"She _moved_?" Dean said incredulously.

Sam stared in disbelief. "Alice Roberts just moved _in_ a month ago."

"Yeah, I know. Name's Dennis Fieldman. I'm the landlord. It was so sudden. Broke the lease and everything." The landlord explained, appearing entirely unconcerned. He gave a bittersweet smile. "I'm not happy to see her go. She was one beautiful tenant. A great tenant."

 _You mean great tenant that broke your lease?_ Buffy thought, confused. Most landlords would be spitting curses at a move that quick. "Quite the charmer." She commented wryly. Her attention drifted back to house and she nodded towards it. "What about her stuff? She pay to help her move?"

Dennis laughed. "Oh, no. I'm giving this all to good will. Alice left behind her all her stuff. Said she didn't need them anymore." He went on, seeming more amused than bothered.

 _What?_ Buffy was even more confused.

"And you none of this raised any questions? Alice just dropped everything and left?" Dean echoed her thoughts, skepticism etched on his face.

The older man shrugged. "It's Alice. What can you do? She's one strange creature." He answered dismissively, affection in his voice as he smiled widely.

"That I have to agree with." Buffy said pointedly.

"Do you have any idea where Alice is now?" Sam pressed.

The landlord paused at this, frowning. "No. She never said. Why? Is she in trouble with you guys?" The blonde slayer couldn't help but be surprised at the instant concern in Dennis's eyes.

The slayer tried to think of a delicate way to answer that question—clearly this man had a thing for Alice—but Sam was faster. The hunter forced a polite smile. "We just have a few questions to ask her. If you ever get a hold of her again, call us." He handed out a slip of paper with their number written on it.

The landlord hesitated, looking like he didn't know what to think, but took it and nodded. "Sure, Agents. I will." Whether there was any actual sincerity in that was debatable.

Dennis Fieldman headed back to the truck, calling to a few of the workers as he continued packing things. Buffy watched the man through narrowed eyes, her slayer mind turning. "Any of that seem weird to you?" She asked them.

"Oh, _yeah_." Dean agreed in an instant.

"Alice moved out in just one month and left behind everything right after Darryl died. There's no way that's a coincidence." Sam stated suspiciously.

"She ran away. Got out just in time before she got caught." Dean remarked.

"Not soon enough. It can't have gone far." Buffy answered, serious. Normally she'd know what this thing was ergo know to track it and ergo know how to kill. Now ... The slayer sighed and turned to them. "Are you sure you don't know what this thing is?"

Dean shook his head. "I don't got a damn clue. Only thing I can think of is shtriga, but they usually feed on kids. They weren't any skeevy black handprints lying around back at Darryl's so it's not like it suddenly went organic."

"Changelings?" Sam offered uncertainly. "I mean, _almost_. The bruises were like a sucker mark except the teeth marks. But they usually sneak in families using kids. Not every vic _had_ kids." He recalled, frowning. "I don't know. We need to research, look deeper into the vics. Find what's missing."

"Alright, so we note up and hunt down _Alice in Wonderland_." Dean declared, motivation in his voice.

Buffy stared at the Winchesters. She couldn't help but be taken aback by their total certainty and brisk matter-of-factness when they talked lore and monsters. It was so weird and uncomfortable, being the ignorant one. She only ever still was that now around Giles.

" ... What's a shtriga and a changeling?" The blonde asked, her voice smaller than intended.

Both brothers looked at her. Dean smiled a bit and shook his head reprovingly. "So much to learn, young padawan."

Even if it was a joke and an affectionate one at that, Buffy glowered. It only reminded her of their conversation earlier. _This whole ignorant slayer thing is starting to really,_ really _get annoying..._

* * *

~~Dean~~

Dean was heading to their motel room, back in normal clothes with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. They were going to spend the night analyzing the case and find a connection to Alice Roberts. Sam went out after they checked in to the Impala to dig out Dad's journal and some of their old contacts. They didn't know what they were hunting so it was all-in.

As the hunter made his way down the hallway, he saw Buffy unlocking her room. Dean weighed this circumstance briefly. He didn't give thought to what he expected, what he would say to her or even what he _wanted_ to say before he was already acting on the distraction and heading on over.

"Another motel. Four walls, reduction functional, hovel chic... Best suite I can buy." Buffy commented as he came up, still staring at the door.

That gave him direction. Dean smirked a little. "What, too used to wide open spaces now thanks to your fancy new castle back at _Earth-2_?" He teased.

"If by 'new and fancy with wide open spaces' you mean old, run-down, and filled with hundreds of girls ... sure, miss it already." The slayer replied sarcastically. "It's really not as nice as it sounds."

Dean studied her, caught by the sudden seriousness in the last part. Buffy's attitude over her organization was so strange. She never seemed happy or even proud of it. In fact, she went to great lengths to downplay everything if she wasn't _evasive_ first. The only thing she _did_ talk about was her duty as leader.

 _For someone who wants to go home so bad ... she sure acts like she don't got much to go back to._ The hunter observed.

A part of him got it. Given everything Buffy told him at the bar, this woman clearly had no life at all. The other part was baffled. She had _friends_. Actual, honest-to-god friends who were still _alive_ and been with her through this hellhole called hunting and apocalypse going on a decade now. Wasn't that enough for her?

That just brought back another question. One that's been bugging the hell out of him, but he didn't dare ask. How was it that Buffy's friends from high school—friends that hadn't even been hunters—witnessed _seven_ apocalypses and _survived_? Dean's friends and family had been _experts_ and every one of them was dead. How was it that Buffy hadn't lost hers?

Dean tried to stick to small talk. "Wouldn't mean much to me either way. Wall-to-wall motel inns are me and Sam's go-to."

"You really spent your whole life in motels?"

The sympathy in her voice was unmistakable. Dean shrugged it off. "Never bothered me."

Buffy appeared unconvinced. She just stared, a certain understanding mixed in with the pity in her eyes. It was the same look she had given him in the bar and he hated it just like the first time. Dean didn't need her pity. This chick was so unreal. As much as she tried to act like a hard-ass, she was ridiculously soft.

Uncomfortable, Dean searched for a way out. "Nice job earlier, wringing Julie for info. Lose the babble and the word vomit and don't have another vampire episode maybe me and Sam won't feel like we're carrying around a nuke." He instigated, forcing himself to sound like an ass.

The slayer hardened and just like he planned, all sympathy vanished. She glared. "You're _still_ holding that over my head? Even after—" Buffy broke off in frustration. "We already went over this. I'm officially _out_ of the doghouse. Stop doghousing me!"

Having safely diverted the conversation, Dean dropped the pretense. "Trust me, I'm ... I'm not. I ain't leashing you anymore either. You're good. Well, not undercover good, but in everything else hunting ... you're good. I mean that." He admitted, lame but sincere. "I know I've been on your case. Maybe I might've ... overdid it a little."

The blonde looked surprised at first, then quickly hardened again. "Is that supposed to be an apology?"

Dean sighed. "I'm a pain in ass?"

Buffy gauged him. "Better." She commented with a shrug, tone still flat. She sobered and gave a little sigh. "I _get_ it. Your motto is 'do the job good or don't do it'. I mess up once—almost die—it grates with your perfect perfectionist mind and you're in overdrive. It's about the job. Fine." She acknowledged begrudgingly.

He paused. " ... It's not just the job." Dean said seriously.

The blonde met his meaningful look impassively, but said nothing.

The questions Dean had suppressed were coming forth. He slowly set the duffel bag down. "So ... you really went through all that, huh?" He began, leaning against the wall beside her. He eyed her intently. "I mean, seven apocalypses ... dying. Since high school."

Buffy looked at him a moment. " ... I did." She confirmed quietly, solemn.

The Winchester didn't know what to say. He never expected her to have faced that many apocalypses and dying, not just once but twice. _She's so damn young._ He thought, empathizing. Dean hadn't died until he was twenty-eight and had his first apocalypse when he was thirty. Buffy was only a year younger than he was when he took Sam from Stanford and she already hit all those milestones and more.

 _What the hell kind of world does she live in?_ It sounded so much worse than theirs. Apocalypses in her home just never seemed to _stop_. It was really no wonder Buffy was so neurotic, living in that. Her being "called" and forced into _that_ at fifteen had never looked more cruel.

"Hard to believe a pretty little young thing like you went through all that." Dean remarked sympathetically.

"Trust me, you're not the first person to say that." Buffy said. She took in a deep breath. "So you and Sam joined my club. Saving the world, dying a lot, being brought back. Here I thought _I_ was special."

The hunter shrugged. "It's an overrated club."

Buffy smiled a bit. "I knew there was a reason I liked you guys. My broken compass strikes again. I follow the direction to normal ... and it takes me the opposite way. My life just resists everything normal." She mocked.

"Well, sorry we're a bunch of freaks." Dean replied sarcastically.

The slayer gave him an amused look. "I'm used to freaks. It's my clique ... Sad to say."

The hunter smiled at her. Something about Buffy had felt kindred somehow, but up until now Dean hadn't entirely understood it. At least he got a little better why Buffy was so mature and hardened and weighed down in demons. He wasn't damn-near _close_ to puzzling out the mystery this woman was, but it sure as hell was a start.

Dean almost scoffed. How messed up was _he_ to hear all the crazy that came with his chick and instead of running for the hills, he was actually _comforted_?

"Just ... _don't_ rag on my slaying or act like I don't know how to fight, okay?" Buffy began, serious again. "I told you some of my stories. You know what I've been through. I might not know how things work here, but I didn't lose any of _that_." She keep her stern look a moment, then relaxed. "So that's my rule. As long as you _remember_ it, we can all just get along."

Dean was amused at the last line. _Still_ this woman's pride and sense of importance was unparalleled. "Still on that high horse, aren't you?" He said dryly.

Buffy gave a sardonic smile. "Only with you."

"Cute." Dean deadpanned. He remembered the case at hand. "Me and Sam are just about to go on research palooza. Look into Alice and lore."

The slayer nodded. "Then I'll look into the other victims. It might take a while, but ... the _second_ I get all the skeletons out, we'll meet and work on a connection." She reassured. Buffy smiled drolly and shrugged. "Besides, who needs beauty sleep?" She added lightly.

The Winchester smirked slowly. He couldn't resist. "Well, definitely not you."

Buffy looked amused. " _I'm_ gonna get cracking on those victims now." She brushed him off, turning back to the door.

Feeling more confident, Dean pushed it further. "We've been kinda busy. But _after_ the case ... I'm free. Whatdaya say we go and finish what we started?" He put on his best charming smirk.

"I'm _not_ free. _Ever_ , actually. And for something to start, it needs to ... y'know, _start_." Buffy answered frankly, unlocking her door. She finally glanced back at him. "Sorry. Dean-patented Buffy repellant still in full-force."

Dean scoffed. _What is she, a tease?_ The hunter crossed his arms and assessed her critically. "Didn't look like it a few days ago. You, me, that cap off to our pool game ..." He countered, smirking as he gave a meaningful look.

"Doesn't ring a bell." The slayer said overly innocently. "Those shots you took must've went to your head." She nodded for emphasis, her tone as patronizing as her smile.

 _Definitely a tease._

Dean snorted. "Oh, _yeah_. _Must've_." He replied, dripping with sarcasm. This cooky slayer and her mixed signals.

Buffy smiled. "Sorry, frat boy. It's just not gonna work."

Dean paused, contemplative before he looking back at her. " ... I'm more of a James Dean." He imparted.

The blonde was amused. "You're not funny."

"I'm hilarious." Dean said automatically, mock-offended.

Buffy rolled her eyes, still wearing a smile. As she opened her door to go inside, the Winchester gave it one last shot. "Y'know, if you ever get lonely in there ..." He started to suggest, moving closer with one hand on the wall.

"I'll take my chances." The slayer remarked amusedly as she closed the door, leaving him in the hall.

Dean just stood there a moment, taking it all in. It was going on two months and still zero with Buffy. The girl who was his part-time roommate in the bunker, who he saw almost every day and who he knew for a fact found him attractive. When was the last time he had to try this hard just to get laid?

 _I must be getting rusty._

Dean figured it was time to call quits. There was easier fish. It was pretty difficult to do that though when Buffy was practically living with them and it was taking a lot longer to get her home than they _all_ thought. Do you have _any_ idea how hard it was, rooming with an incredibly hot chick and having _nothing_ happening? It was torture.

"God, I hate prude hot chicks." The hunter said out loud with a shake of his head, weary of the situation.

"You look like a _dumbass_."

Startled, Dean turned to see Sam had come up behind him. The older hunter immediately felt self-conscious. "I was just, uh, getting her settled in ..." Dean said unconvincingly. Seeing his brother's look, he rolled his eyes. "Okay, _fine_. She ain't biting." He admitted grudgingly, reaching down for his duffel.

Sam stared at him in disbelief. "And she's not _going_ to bite, Dean. Especially with a _case_. She's got _how_ many other things to worry about?"

"Why's that matter?" Dean said incredulously. "It's not like I'm trying to take her on a honeymoon or something." His confusion couldn't help but make him a bit irritable. Did this chick not know at _all_ how to blow off steam?

"Give it up, man. Buffy's not the type to sleep with just _anybody_. That's obvious." He said matter-of-factly.

Dean blanched at the implication. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Heh, hey. I'm just looking for a good time." He rushed to clarify, nervous and a bit alarmed. Buffy was an amazing girl and far too easy to like, but that wasn't ... he couldn't ... Bad. Bad everywhere.

Sam smiled at his flustered brother and shook his head. "She's not the type." He stated, amused.

The older hunter frowned. His brother actually had a point. Buffy might be the committed relationship type and there were reasons beyond reasons why he just couldn't be on that radar. The last thing Dean wanted to do was hurt her. Letting her catch any feelings would be a huge mistake in the making. She still had a _world_ to go back for god's sake.

The thing was Dean wasn't sure how much that applied here. Even if Buffy _was_ the committed type, that didn't mean she liked _him_. So far all he got out of her was she liked his looks. That was a perfect recipe for a one-night stand without any drama, even for someone like her. In _that_ case, it would be okay, right?

Not entirely sure of anything now, Dean just shook it all off to figure out another time. "Yeah, well, whatever. We better get to work. Start cracking on the Alice chick."

* * *

~~Sam~~

It was an incredibly long night for Sam and Dean. They spent it immersed in research, switching off between lore and background-checking Alice. Buffy had been MIA other then a few intermittent, cryptic texts about her getting the personal information on the vics. Now it was early morning and the brothers were still at it, exhausted. It wasn't long before there was a knock on the door and Buffy had arrived. The slayer came in, looking a little sleep-deprived herself, carrying a bundle of paperwork.

"Got it." She said casually as she walked past Sam who answered the door. "I broke in the hospitals the other victims died at and stole all the medical records."

Buffy laid out the files on the edge of Dean's bed where his brother still was. Sam was quick to hurry over, joining him as they both went through the records. They traded each other off when they were done, making each get the full account.

"The first four victims. Richard Coleman, Mark Miller, and Shawn Hart. They all match with Darryl. Same symptoms, same town, all died in about a month or so." Buffy began, standing at the foot of their beds. "Either of you got something to add on?" She asked, looking between them expectantly.

"They're all young. Twenty-four, twenty-five, thirty. Oldest's one thirty-four." Dean remarked, narrowing his eyes.

Sam nodded. "Darryl was at least thirty-five ... but still, same age-range. And they're _all_ guys."

"Not to mention married." Buffy pitched in. "I was looking through them a little on the way. Even the twenty-four year old had a wife."

"A monster going after married men?" Sam was frowning.

"Must got a thing for drama." His brother commented flippantly. "So as far as victim profile goes we got young, married, and a sausage fest." Dean simplified, deadpan as he set the papers aside. He shook her head. "I'm gettin' some serious _Fatal Attraction_ vibes out of this one, man."

Sam nodded. "That's the connection. It's been hunting down young and married men."

"Then that's where we start. It's favorite food." Buffy stated with conviction. "Did you two get anything else on Alice?"

"Only that she's even more shady. There's not even a record of an Alice Roberts." Dean said.

" ... You mean you still didn't figure out what she is yet." Buffy recognized, clearly disappointed.

His brother gave a slight shrug. "Working on it."

Sam sighed and shook his head helplessly. "There's too much lore. They're basically all the same. It's gonna take a little longer to figure out exactly what we're hunting."

Buffy paused unhappily. Finally she sighed. "I forgot about this." She began suddenly, sitting on the edge of one of the beds. "How long the research thing can be. I have a whole special team back at the Slayer Organization for this stuff. They get every monster factoid you could ask for in like, a few hours. Maybe less."

Sam was in awe again. It was just amazing to him how this young girl and her equally young friends could run an high-ended operation like that. _I'd give anything to get a tour of the place._

The hunter couldn't help but envy it also. He honestly really won't mind that kind of organized, fast support right now.

"Yeah, well, we don't have a band of sleuths and stolen swiss-bank loot in our back pocket." Dean remarked

Buffy looked disappointed. "But wouldn't it be cool if you did?" She joked weakly.

Dean gave a small, amused smile. "It'd be frickin' awesome."

"Wait. You robbed a swiss bank?" Sam asked in complete disbelief.

"It was for the _cause_! It was all _insured_! And we _totally_ found a Watteau painting the Nazis hid and sent it to the Tate." Buffy was quick to justify.

Sam took a moment to let it sink in. " ... Huh." He said simply, intrigued. The slayer frowned, clearly having expected a different reaction from him, but the hunter just shrugged. "Makes sense." From a hunter's perspective, it actually made a lot of sense.

"Hey, it's cool. It's sexy." Dean reassured, nonchalant.

"Why, thank you." Buffy answered wryly. "Honestly .. it'd be nice if I could get my people on this for you guys. Even just Wil or Dawn or my other friend Xander ... They can be one mean, research-tackling machine. I'd say Giles, but he'd be kinda squicky over all your new-agey stuff. One look at a smartphone and he'd probably go catatonic."

"We'll figure it out. Maybe whenever we find out Alice, we can match her up with the lore." Sam assured.

Dean had been studying the slayer, his expression intent but unreadable. Finally he gave a quiet scoff. "A hunter with army, a trust fund, and their very own _Super-friends_. Aren't you just one in hell of variable." He remarked, a bit incredulous.

"I guess." Buffy said with shrug. "My whole slaying career's basically been built off that. I pretty much just chew up all the rules and spit them out."

"Rules?" Sam asked.

" _Oh_ , yeah." She began with feeling, nodding . "Back in the Chosen One days, there used to be a Watcher's Council. There was whole lot of do-nots. Don't have friends, don't have a job, just ... You're the Slayer. Slay monsters. That's the tradition. But I never cared about any of that stuff."

"Why not?" Dean looked entirely uncomprehending.

The blunt, challenging question took Buffy by surprise a moment. She stared back at him levelly. "... I'm not going to sacrifice every other part of my life just because I'm supposed to go out and save the world and kill monsters." She answered, defiance in her voice.

Dean gave a sarcastic nod, clearly tempted to say something, but just regarded her skeptically.

Her words reached Sam. He had to admire Buffy's rebelliousness in the face of the demands that would be extremely harsh on anyone. That had been his own fight with his father when it came to hunting and a normal life. _It's not that simple though._ There had been a _reason_ for those rules. It went without saying. It was dangerous to have others in a life killing monsters. So many people died. He and Dean knew that more than anyone.

Sam's cell rang. It was the medical examiner, back with the toxicology results. His brother and Buffy had their intense attention on Sam as he walked around the room carrying conversation. Confusion and even more seriousness came to the younger Winchester by the time the call ended.

"What is it?" Dean asked as Sam walked back over, noticing his grave look.

"Darryl's test results came back. There wasn't any sign of poison, but he had high levels of testosterone ... and _oxytocin_." Sam stressed the last word, giving his brother a meaningful look.

Dean got it. Confused realization filled his face. " _What?"_

"That I'd have to back up." The blonde replied dryly, looking between them as waited for explanation.

"Oxytocin is a love hormone. There's something called a siren that supposed to induce it. Part of it's killing pattern." Sam explained.

Buffy frowned. "A _siren_? You mean like the Greek, luring-sailors-away' siren?"

"The classics, sweetheart. Sneaky bastards mess with your minds, change their skins. They're psychotic." Dean elaborated. He scowled deep and looked to Sam. "A damn _siren_? _Really_?" He said in outrage.

Sam couldn't blame him. Their last-run in with a siren had been particularly unpleasant and was still a sore spot for both of them. With the complicated memory in mind, something still didn't feel right. "It doesn't make sense. Sirens don't feed to kill. They use other people to kill for them."

"Well, it's not like we've run into a lot of 'em. Maybe it's from the other side of the gene pool." Dean suggested. "But yeah, it's frickin' weird. Could be something else altogether."

Sam nodded agreement. "We need to get closer. We'll find the things trail, and go from there."

"Alright, so ... siren-like." Buffy noted lamely, still looking a little lost. "Is there a way to make sure? Are sirens polite and give us a shed skin trail or maybe a nice little melody?"

"It's not really that easy." Sam admitted. "But whatever it is ... it's probably at least still here in Sandpoint. It's where all the other murders took place."

"Killing in the _same_ town the same way for five months? That's like wearing a sign saying _'Hey, come kill me!'_ " She remarked in disdain.

"Like monsters are always smart?" Dean replied incredulously.

The slayer was still unsatisfied. "Well, we better _hope_ it's stupid." She muttered. After a moment, she sighed. "Alice ... She just moved in right before Darryl Harper died. My guess is if it is still here, then that's probably where we should look. Any new movers."

Sam shrugged. "The best-case scenario. Alice didn't exactly cover her tracks."

"So we mow through the closest neighborhoods. Keep an eye out for any new mysterious hot chicks playing up the whole _Femme Fatale Next Door_ vibe." Dean declared.

The younger Winchester nodded. "We'll have to go in from the inside."

Buffy was staring at the brothers, a weary and a daunted look in her eye. "Looks like we're going to spending some nice, quality time in Sandpoint." She muttered wryly, unenthused.

"It's heartwarming." Dean said dryly.

Sam gave the slayer a sympathetic look. She wasn't used to these long, drawn-out hunts and with not much of trail this one was going to be a little longer than usual. "Let's just hope we find it before it kills again."

The blonde took it in. "Right ..." She said in a sigh, standing from the bed. "I think I'm gonna sack it. I kinda had a long night." She looked to the two brothers meaningfully. "You guys should too."

" _Sleep_? What's sleep?" Dean gave a tired smirk.

Sam got her meaning. He felt his own exhaustion poignantly. "... Maybe for a couple hours." He agreed. It was going to be an even longer day today and they all needed whatever they could get.

"That's all _I'm_ gonna get. Luckily it's not a stranger." Buffy answered with a shrug. "Then I'll be ready to go the town bake sale and spy on the neighbors with binoculars or whatever it is we do." She stated lightly as she walked away to the door, exiting.

Sam watched her go thoughtfully. Her words earlier about not allowing her supernatural lifestyle get in the way of her having normal aspects resonated with him. Could it really be that simple? Buffy had told him before he had a choice in hunting. Was it possible to have it both ways?

"Well, you heard the lady." Dean was saying, gathering up all the files Buffy brought and putting them away. "Our daily dose of four hours and it's back to the grindstone."

" ... Maybe she had a point." Sam began suddenly, contemplative. "You shouldn't give up having a real life just because you're hunter."

Dean paused and weighed him critically. "You don't have a choice."

"Why, 'cause it hasn't worked out for us?" The younger Winchester countered, a challenge in his voice. "Maybe we're looking at it all wrong, Dean. Buffy made the whole balanced approach work."

" _Work_? Look where she's at, Sam!" Dean argued incredulously. "Chick's a drill sergeant that's been too busy hunting with her super-girls to even have time for a damn coffee. She's as far off from balanced as you can get."

" 'Cause she _had_ to be, Dean. She had hundreds of hunters with _superpowers_ to train. It's not like that kind of situation that just happens to anyone." Sam countered. "Before that, she _did_ hunt and have a normal life. For a while, at least."

"Yeah, and it still all went down the crapper for her, didn't it? It never lasts."

Sam couldn't help but deflate a bit. He tried to be optimistic, but like Dean all their loved ones that died because of this life still lurked in the back of his mind. He sighed. "So ... it hasn't been cut out for us. Maybe Buffy can prove it wrong. At least she's trying to."

"Yeah, only because she didn't lose everyone the way we did. She's still got her friends to keep that 'best of both worlds' fever dream alive." His older brother remarked, entirely matter-of-fact.

The younger hunter was taken aback. "Is that what this is this about, Dean? You're trying to make yourself feel better?" Sam responded, incredulous.

Weariness swamped Dean's face. "No, I'm ... I'm not, okay?" He sounded truly tired. "I just ... _know_ how it works. Hunters don't get happy endings or get to keep a special hunter crew. It's how it's always been." The older hunter turned meaningful. "She's _young_ , Sam! She hasn't lived it all like we have. Do you honestly think ten years down the line, she's gonna be anything but us?"

Sam said nothing. He knew Dean was right. They had ten to six more years of all the harshness and death that was hunting. Maybe Buffy wasn't fortunate. She was just unexposed. Still ... a part of him wondered. The girl _and_ her friends had made it out of apocalypse after apocalypse despite her age. Could she still be sign of hope? You can have a home life _and_ be a hunter?

The real question was if that's what Sam wanted in the first place.

* * *

 **A/N:** **Yes, this "monster-of-the week" case ended up a second-parter. It was supposed to be just one chapter like Ch. 4, but I realized the atmosphere in how it started was too different compared to how it finished so condensing it wouldn't feel right. _This_ part was about exploring further the Buffy/Dean/Sam dynamic. We needed more bonding. :3 I tried to tie in the emotional arcs of the characters too and hope it all knitted together well. :)**

 **It was great finally writing Dean and Sam actually _seeing_ Buffy and learning a bit more about her life and what's she's been through. My favorite part was the normalcy vs. hunting thing. Buffy challenges them over how _they_ live and what they believe and of course Sam and Dean have opposite reactions and then they sort of challenge her too. There's gonna be a lot of more of that as fic goes on. ;)**

 **The Sam/Buffy scene in the beginning, while incredibly important to Sam's story, isn't any foreshadowing of them as a couple. IMO Buffy is _technically_ both their types while they're both hers so they may be a _flirty_ Sam/Buffy friendship, but this is Buffy/Dean all the way. Luckily tho given how it's set in S8, that all works pretty well. I try to keep close to their canon selves so lol.**

 **The second part to this is going to be released _verrry_ soon. For a little while tho, does anyone want to try to guess what the new monster is? ;) **

_**TO BE CONTINUED ...**_

 _ **Thanks for the 69 favorites, 115 follows, and 61 reviews! ;)**_


	10. Chapter 10: Bad Touch

**A/N:** This might my quickest update ever. Just didn't want to keep you guys waiting. ;) You guys gave about the same guesses for the monster—and yes, it's definitely a monster SPN didn't do yet—and now you'll get to see what it is. It's a little based off lore, but I added a lot of my own rules to it. Since this chapter is a second-parter, it's a lot shorter than my normal ones. I sort of had my own kind of fun with this one. There's a big surprise. ;)

Enjoy the chapter! :)

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or Buffy and any of the characters. This is all just for entertainment. **

**_Constructive Criticism/OCC thoughts always open! :)_**

* * *

 _Bad Touch_

~~Buffy~~

Buffy glowered ahead, taking in the picnic tables and the drinks and the lawn chairs and the streamers. People were gathered around the backyard, busy and chatting away. The host of the party was all the way in the back, refilling drinks.

They interviewed the families of the victims for information on a mysterious woman. All had reported one, each with a different name and description ... and each moved mysteriously just after the sudden death, cementing a connection. No other signs of mysterious undocumented women appeared after that. Now it was a week later and they had snuck in this small neighborhood get-together to scope things out without a trail. Their big-break-that-wasn't-really-a-big-break.

Buffy's impatience was to the hilt. A week was too long to find one monster. It just increased the chances of losing it. She tried to keep herself in check. Sure, they was a pretty high chance this party was another dead-end ... but it _had_ to be looked into. She just couldn't stop thinking how easier this would all be if she still had the Slayer Organization's connections. Buffy honestly had no idea she had grown to depend on their resources so much.

"... So this is it. Time to mingle." The blonde said flatly, looking up at Sam and Dean. She always felt so small standing next to these two giants.

Sam nodded. "We just need to keep an eye out for anything suspicious. Maybe start with the women. That's looking like the form it prefers." The hunter sounded none too thrilled either.

Dean looked determined. "An eye for mysterious, sexy ladies ... You have got the right man." He declared meaningfully. The two watched as he was already breaking away, immersing himself into the throng of people.

Buffy gave an unimpressed stare. "Why'd we bring _Dean_? Isn't he, like, our weak link?" She asked pointedly.

"Already regretting it." Sam said flatly, his expression a mirror image of her own.

Dean quickly found a group and started to chat away with the girls. With all the looks and smiles getting thrown around, you would never think he was working.

A bit of annoyance stabbed at Buffy. Dean just acted so shallow. It was too easy to forgot he actually had depth and wasn't just another disciple from the School of Casanova, teaching the fine arts of womanizing for generations with "a hit it and quit it"-only policy. He certainly didn't look much like it from over here.

Buffy and Sam shared a look. The slayer rolled her eyes and then her and Sam split, taking up different areas.

Buffy scoured the backyard like it was a battlefield. She talked only to a few guests at first, wanting to ease herself into it and get a lay of everything. She kept a grudging eye on Dean once or twice (She hadn't been entirely joking earlier; given the monster's form of choice and the hunter's own weakness for women, he sort of _was_ their weak link).

Buffy maneuvered herself to the buffet table, ready to get into the talking. As Buffy looked for a nearby conversation-opener, Dean had wandered over.

"You find anything?" She asked, still searching among the huddles.

"Just a couple sorority chicks and a lot of soccer moms." The hunter informed.

Her earlier doubts resurfaced. She frowned slightly. "Maybe it's not here. Worst-case it already left town." The slayer kept her voice low, glancing warily at the people close to them.

"Too soon to tell. Still got more people to cover." Dean answered.

"Then we keep looking. If everyone here is clean, we spread out farther than Sandpoint." Buffy said briskly. "There hasn't been more reports of another victim yet. I guess we should ..." The blonde finally glanced at Dean, who was filling his plate with buffet food. Instant incredulity hit. " ... pretend we're actually _working_. Great." She looked away, putting her hands on her hips. " _Ohh_ , this is gonna go well."

Dean looked innocent. "I'm working."

"Oh, yes. I can see that in all the vigorous face-stuffing." Buffy stated with snark, crossing her arms.

The hunter grabbed a roll. "No, it's called _finesse_. I'm blending in."

Buffy saw right through him. "You're just making excuses for free food."

"Who says work and pleasure can't be both. Well, not including you." Dean said nonchalantly, the last part an afterthought as he ate one of the ham horderves on a stick. "Besides, I'm supposed to what? Walk around like a damn meerkat all day? _That_ oughta show 'em."

It took a split-second for the implication to register. "I'm a _meerkat_?" The blonde ground out.

" _You_ said it first." The hunter countered quickly, shaking his head with a meaningful look.

Buffy glared. "... It's nice that we have such mature conversations." The slayer remarked in acidic sarcasm.

Dean gave her an equally sarcastic look before Buffy turned away, back to casing people out.

Her annoyance itched. Dean just was so immature and cynical and distant and jerkish ... yet at the same time had a fixation with saving people that at times seemed stronger than _Sam's._ He could be sweet. He showed only about six percent of who he really was—maybe ten on his version of a good day—and all of that was there for reason ... She remembered too soon.

It was self-explanatory. With a background of apocalypse and multiple-choice death, you more than qualified as dark, stormy past material and that had it's own idiosyncrasies. The thing was, it felt like there was a _lot_ in that dark, stormy past. More gruesome details, other big chunks completely cut out. Dean was so closed off.

Buffy's exasperation ebbed away, thinking. " ... What'd you mean before?" She began quietly, turning back to Dean. "A week ago at the gas station. You said ... friends were better off without you." She clarified delicately, leery of maybe stepping over a boundary.

Dean paused mid-horderve. He put it down on the plate and looked at her. His expression was utterly indecipherable.

They stared at each other. Suddenly Dean's attention shifted to somewhere beyond her. The slayer glanced over to see two women were approaching, one dragging the other with her.

"Jules, I just really don't—"

"Don't ruin this for me! You need it too!"

The tail-end of the conversation reached them just as they awkwardly swerved to a stop in front of them. The one that spoke gave a little self-conscious smile. "Hi. You two loving the food here as much as I am?" She said in a perky voice. She was a tall, blue-eyed blonde with long, wavy hair, a curvy physique and fairly pretty.

"You kidding me? The chicken wings, they're delicious." Dean agreed heartily, setting aside his buffet food to stand beside Buffy.

Buffy, who hadn't actually ate anything, went along with it. "Gotta love the small-town cul-de-sac. Home-cooked meals and filled with the warm cozies." She hoped she sounded enthused.

Jules smiled a bit. "Try to be anyway." Her eyes swiveled to Dean and then she flashed a smile that would've blinded the sun. "Jules Stelle. I live just down the block." Though addressing both of them, the extended hand was clearly for Dean.

Dean regarded her with wary interest, then slowly accepted the handshake. "Jules. Dean." They held it little longer than necessary, eying each other.

Buffy felt a little left out. " _Buffy_." She pitched in weakly with a forced smile, waving her arm.

"Um, this is my friend Lori. Lori, Buffy. Lori, Dean." Jules gave her friend another sharp pull upfront, shooting her a meaningful look.

Lori gave a little sigh and stepped up, shaking Buffy's hand. "Lori Olson. Nice to meet you." Unlike Jules, she was a brunette and more skinny than curvy with green eyes and a mousy air about her. Clearly she was introvert of the two. She looked to be around the same age though, in her early thirties.

" _So!_ Where'd you two come from?" Jules began casually.

Buffy couldn't help it. "That would be the _neighborhood_."

"Who would've guessed?" Dean joked with a knowing smile, amused. "We're from around. We don't usually go to these kind of things. Figured it was finally time to eat, drink and say 'Hey, Neighbor'." He 'explained'.

Jules smirked. " _Hey_ , _neighbor_." She drawled, looking him and up down.

Buffy watched this suspiciously. _Young, pretty, looking at Dean he's juicy piece of man-steak ... our Catherine Tramell?_ She wondered. It did fit the monster's m.o _so_ far. It had a thing for guys, after all and Dean was basically in the same age-range as the victims.

"So Dean ..." Jules continued, putting on a flirty smile. "What do you do for living?"

Buffy, trusting Dean with nothing young and pretty, was about to interject. She didn't get the chance.

"So what about you, uh, Buffy, right? What do you do?" Lori sounded like she said it more for the sake of it than actual interest.

Buffy stared blankly, having thought of no cover-story whatsoever. So like any good unprepared person, she just said the first thing that popped in her head. "I'm a counselor. A high school counselor." Or at least she had been a little over three years ago.

"Really? What high school?" Lori pried.

Why didn't she just say waitress? " ... The most well-known one." That was the lamest thing she could say and Buffy knew it. She just was too distracted by Dean, who was carrying an easy conversation with possible monster suspect Jules. It made her uncomfortable.

Lori surprisingly said nothing about her stupid statement. "I'm in real estate. I ..."

The rest of Lori's words was drowned out by Dean's voice floating over. "So a gymnast ..." The hunter was saying, a appreciate note in his voice. "That's ... that's very admirable."

Jules nodded. "I think keeping in shape is important. It makes you healthier." Suddenly she gave him a impish smile. "Makes you more ... _flexible_ ..."

Buffy rolled her eyes so hard they could've rolled out of her head. Was Dean really just eating all this up? He was just _that_ easy? Was he even thinking if there was a chance Jules might be a monster _at all_?

"If only all of American could be like you." Dean said smoothly.

That was a decidedly tamer come-on than his usual brand which made Buffy think twice. She spared a brief look. The hunter was engaging, but guarded. She guessed he did consider her as potential monster suspect after all. _There might be hope for him yet._

" ... Business though has been suffering lately. I guess it comes as no surprise." Lori stated a bit sadly.

Buffy jerked back to her at the change of tone. She turned solemn. " ... You mean that flu thing going around, huh?"

Lori nodded, expression darkening. "It-It hasn't been too bad ... but it's still not a very good image."

The blonde studied her carefully. The woman suddenly seemed anxious. In fact, now that she was really focusing she couldn't help but notice the bags under her eyes indicting classic lack of sleep and distinct discomfort. The poor woman appeared strained and troubled all the way to the bone.

"About five guys died." The slayer commented. The good thing about these meet-N-greets was that it was always super-easy to scrounge up information.

"Yeah, I heard about that." Dean was 'suddenly' very interested in their conversation as he made his way to Buffy and Lori. "Been a real problem around here. Doctors can't even figure out what's causing it." He kept a wary eye on Jules as he said it and then Lori again, just like Buffy was doing. Reading guilt.

Jules—their prime suspect—surprisingly showed no reaction. She only looked concerned. "I think doctors said something about it just being a severe new kind of flu." She glanced self-consciously at Lori. "But I'm-I'm sure it's not that contagious. Five guys? That's nothing."

The brunette gave a little breath. "I'm sure the doctors will find a cure soon." She said tightly.

"... Yeah. Yeah, I bet." Dean said cautiously, a hint of skepticism on his face.

Buffy caught her behavior with questioning. Was something going on here?

The slayer didn't have time to pry. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen either of you in the neighborhood before." Lori observed all of sudden.

 _Uh-oh._

Jules frowned. "Come to think of it, I haven't either. And I know _everyone_."

Buffy was thinking of a good response. Dean, however, beat her to it and put on his default 'charm' smirk. "Maybe you missed us."

It had the desired effect. Jules smiled playfully. "I think I'd notice _you_."

The hunter smirked wider. "Ahh, that's flattering. Actually we're from farther downtown. Small house on the curb. Wouldn't even notice it."

Buffy nodded. "It's farther back. _Way_ back. And we don't hang out much here so ..." She threw out her arm and just let it lie there. She didn't play off the ruse _as_ great as Dean, but close enough.

Lori seemed to accept it anyway. Danger averted.

Or so she thought. Jules was frowning again. "Wait, hold on a second. Are you two ... ?" She queried questioningly, pointing between them.

It only took a second for her to realize. Buffy immediately shook her head. "Oh, no. We're not—"

Dean's arm snaked around her shoulders, pulling her close against him. "Yep. Going on two years. We're looking to really settle down." He remarked smoothly, a smirk on his face.

Of course.

Buffy stood stiffly, provoked on a dime. She restrained herself though, knowing better and settled with seething silence.

Jules looked absolutely dismayed. Lori just gave a polite smile. "Well, this is a good place to start. It's a great community. Perfect for raising children."

 _Children?_ The blonde slayer thought incredulously.

Dean was still in all his cool and unfazed glory. "Oh, we're planning to stay here a long, long time. We live in a beautiful house. Gonna be great for kids." He carried on suavely.

Buffy openly glared. He sure knew how to lie through his ass.

Still, was he done? "Let me tell you. It took a _lot_ to rassle this one down." Dean pulled her even tighter against him, his face just a little too close to hers as he smirked at her. "You're lucky I put up with you." He said in mock exasperation.

Buffy stared back irritably, not entertaining him and moved her head away. "Lucky me."

Lori gave another polite, albeit strained smile. "Well, I'm sorry but I really have to go." She said distractedly, already making a move to leave.

"Lori, wait!" Jules grabbed her hand, trying to make her stay.

"I really have to." The brunette insisted, tugging it out of her grasp. "It was nice meeting you both." She called over her shoulder to Buffy and Dean. All three of them watched her go, little frowns on their faces.

It was just them and Jules now. Dean playfully roughed her shoulders before he too made his exit, leaving Buffy alone with the other blonde.

As soon as he was gone, Buffy _had_ to set it straight. "He's not my boyfriend. I don't even know him." The slayer clarified quickly, a little too vehement.

Jules stared in surprise. "You mean ... _all_ that?"

" _He's_ wacky that way." Buffy responded cheerfully, giving a thin smile. "Dean's, um, ... just a friend. We're in strict roommate capacity."

The taller blonde glanced in the direction Dean went, frowning thoughtfully. "Well, he sure seems to like you ..." Jules observed.

"Along with every other pretty girl out there. I'm touched." The slayer said dryly.

Jules laughed. "Oh, so he's one of _'those'_ guys, huh?"

Buffy nodded significantly. "The kind you _run_ from. Believe me, I know."

Buffy glanced back. Dean was further across now, deep in conversation with Sam. The near-kiss rushed back and that glimmer of torment she had sensed in him. In certain moments when she talked about her life, the slaying, and what they've both been through, she felt a spark of connection. Like Dean ... _understood_ somehow. She couldn't explain it. They fought and argued more than they got along. But Buffy swore for one shiny, shiny ... they could almost relate.

Sudden weariness swept over her. She wished Dean was easier to understand. Getting to know him through was a lot like trying to break down a steel wall. There was no getting through. You could tell him everything about yourself and he would still tell you nothing.

"He's ... not my type." Buffy said lamely.

This all had to be a fluke. The almost-kiss, the weird moments. It meant nothing. Just a product of her long-dead sex life and how Dean happened to be the only hunky guy between him and Sam constantly making himself available. It was only _hormones_. Once she found a way home, she'd never see Dean again and this would all just fade away.

The thought reassured the slayer. Meanwhile, Jules was staring after Dean with a charmed smile. "Still ... he is quite a studmuffin, isn't he?"

Buffy gave her a long look. She finally forced a bit of smirk. "Sweetie ... take it from me. Be the smarter person and just say no."

Truly hoping she took the advice to heart, Buffy dismissed herself and went back to work. She had already crossed out Jules as a suspect. The woman appeared now to be nothing more than your average, horny thirty-something. Lori though was a different story. She didn't seem suspicious _exactly_ ... but with a rapid exit like that, something was up. Buffy was determined to find out what.

Buffy pushed her way through, searching for Lori. She stopped dead. A gap in the crowd opened up and at the the very back, leaning against the fence was a man and a woman. The man looked to be in his late twenties with short dark hair. He had a sallow, unhealthy complexion bordering vampire-sque. He looked so pale ...

 _He's sick. Like_ really _sick_ _._ The blonde thought in alarm.

The woman with him was almost as startling. She was a stunning raven-haired beauty, well-endowed with a perfect hourglass figure. Her skin was a flawless tropical tan, a jarring contrast. The woman was so beautiful and without imperfection she was more illusion than real. The incredibly sick man had his undivided attention on her, smiling weakly and conversing like wasn't going to fall over any minute.

Buffy narrowed her eyes. The man showed all signs of the victims in age and symptoms. And the woman, talking to him in this condition? How was that normal? _Well, if this doesn't get the slayer senses tingling ..._ The slayer thought, fixing on the beauty with new suspicion.

Maybe there _was_ something here after all.

* * *

~~Sam~~

Sam stood separate from the crowd, scouring with little success and frankly a bit on edge. The hunter had talked with guests plenty, even subtly working in mentions to the so-called "sickness" in Sandpoint but none gave away anything past civil concern or a little anxiety at most.

 _Maybe it's somewhere else. Already draining a victim._

Not that Sam had expected much going in anyway. This hadn't much a lead as it was being out of options. Every other neighborhood they investigated already had nothing. Other than "Alice Roberts" most abrupt move, there wasn't much of a trail.

Sam saw Dean making his way over, throwing a plate of his into the nearby trash.

"So. You about as empty as I am?" Sam asked in a sigh.

"And so _that_ makes us the _Three Stodges_." His brother deadpanned. At the younger hunter's questioning look, Dean gave a weary shrug. "Buffy too."

Sam couldn't be surprised. "You didn't get anything out of that blonde you were talking to?"

"Hot gymnast? Nah. Nah, she's clean." Dean said, a bit of smirk on his face a second. "Even threw myself to the lions, calling me Mr. Married. Nothin'."

"You used yourself as _bait_?" Sam responded incredulously.

Dean overlooked his reaction. "Yeah, and she didn't take it. Just like every other available, pretty chick so far."

 _Every one?_ Sam was even more alarmed and Dean of course had missed his entire point but he forced himself to let it go. The younger hunter sighed and looked back to the crowds. " ... I guess there's nothing here, after all."

"Well, I wouldn't say nothing yet. I just talked to this woman named Lori Olson. She was real personable in the nice and wholesome, nail-biting, tweaker kind of way. Seemed like there was something up with her." Dean shared.

 _"Lori Olson?"_ Sam frowned in confusion. "You're saying she could be the monster?"

"Or maybe she _knows_ something. She didn't seem all that monster-y to me." The older hunter shrugged. "I think we should check her out. Not sure how worth it it's really gonna be, but _carpe diem_."

The younger Winchester's suspicious flared. "I talked with her too ... Something was definitely off. Especially when talking about her husband. She seemed a little tense." He remembered, reanalyzing the whole thing.

Dean weighed him intently. "Caught hubby around by any chance?"

It all added up. Sam realized. "The husband. This thing preys on _husbands_."

"The forbidden fruit. Always what gets you." Dean waxed poetically, looking wistful. He came back to himself. "We better go try to get on more info on the husband. See if he's the new ..." His brother broke off abruptly, mouth open as his eyes widened. "Holy ..."

Sam followed his gaze and froze. In the back was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Silky black hair, a perfect figure, unblemished tan skin and eyes as dark as coal. The hunter was enraptured at the sight of her. His mind went fuzzy. Everything else in the world seemed to fade away, leaving only her.

Some part of Sam's mind, right then, and there knew. This couldn't possibly be normal.

"Wow ..." Dean began breathlessly. "Now that's an exotic beauty. What I wouldn't do for ..." His brother's enamored expression became strained, a frown fighting to the surface." ... which I _wouldn't_. Since she's probably a monster." He realized as he came to his senses, giving a resigned shake of his head.

Sam blinked furiously to snap out of it. With difficulty, the younger Winchester finally took in what he blocked out. There was a man with her, sickly and a little thin. The sight startled Sam significantly. He looked almost exactly like all the men that had died. Less emaciated maybe, but well on the way.

"Dean ..." Sam said meaningfully.

Dean, still a bit unfocused, took a second. Soon enough he saw. Shock and disbelief filled his face before he hardened. "... I think we just found _Jack Skellington_." The older hunter deadpanned.

Sam nodded tersely and the two stared, letting it sink in.

" ... I didn't even notice him, Sam." Dean sounded shaken.

"Me either." Sam admitted uneasily.

The Winchesters exchanged a disturbed look, knowing what that meant. It could only mean one thing. This woman was something inhuman.

As Dean and Sam were still deciding what to do, Buffy picked her way over. "Guys, I found something." She stopped at their side and nodded her head in the man's direction. "Anyone here order the next _The Machinist_?" She quipped.

"That'd be us." Dean said meaningfully, eyes still on the man.

Sam nodded curtly. "We saw."

Buffy's brows furrowed. "And you're _what?_ Auditioning for Most Life-like Garden Gnome? Why are we still standing here?"

Suddenly Lori Olson appeared, heading straight towards the sick man. She immediately broke him and woman up, pulling the man slightly to the side and speaking words to him. She looked incensed, making jerky gestures as the mystery woman stood by. It looked like a heated conversation.

Buffy instantly shot off and slinked her way through the crowd to get closer. Spurned by the action, Sam and Dean shook off the last remnants of their stupor and followed after her. The three of them used the people around for cover, keeping out of obvious sight but still close enough to hear.

"Derek, what on earth _do_ you think you're doing here? You're supposed to be at home resting. You're not in any condition—" Lori was lecturing fiercely.

"I told you before I felt better!" Derek argued weakly.

"Better?! Look at _you_ , Derek!" The brunette seethed, gesturing to him in disgust. "You shouldn't be out. And you shouldn't be here with _her._ " Lori bit the last words out with more disdain, glaring at the black-haired woman.

"We were talking, that's it. Kimber's new here, remember? She didn't know where the party was at. I-I was just trying to help her ..." Derek rushed to explain, looking pained.

Lori looked ten times more upset. "Kimber's a big girl. She could've found a way here herself. Worry about your health! Derek, please!" She begged, worry overtaking the anger.

"Lori—"

The brunette grabbed his wrist, cutting him off. "That's it. You need to see a doctor."

Kimber, who had been watching the entire exchange through narrowed eyes, finally butted in. "With all due respect, Lori, Derek seemed perfectly fine to me." The busty woman said coolly.

"Fine?! Have you _looked_ at him?" The shorter woman screeched.

"I don't see him raising any complaints. No one can knows how he feels better than him. " Kimber responded, tilting her chin in challenge. She looked over at Derek meaningfully. "You don't need to tell him what to do, Lori. Derek can still think for himself."

Lori looked like she was about to explode. "He's sick! He needs to be taken care of. That's what _I'm_ here for. His _wife_." The brunette punctuated, carrying a particularly cutting edge. Jealousy? She pulled on Derek harder. "Come on. We're leaving."

Derek protested, but Lori didn't listen and was practically dragging him away. He glanced back at Kimber helplessly, clearly not wanting to leave. The dark-haired woman gave a reassuring smile and nodded as Derek Olson and his wife exited the party.

The three hunters stood watching the scene, suspicion on their faces. Sam felt uncertain and grappled with what to do before the mystery woman's eyes found them through a spot in the crowd. He instantly tensed. That same fuzzy feeling came over the hunter again, but this time he resisted.

Kimber stared, her gaze sharp and piercing and bottomless. Sam met it bravely. Finally in what may have been the longest moment of his life the mysterious woman broke the hypnotic stare and slowly started to leave the party, slipping away with the crowd. Sam watched uncertainly, torn.

Buffy instantly went to follow, but he caught her wrist. The slayer whipped around, staring at him in confusion. "We have to follow it."

The younger Winchester pinned her with a meaningful look, trusting her to understand what he was thinking. The blonde eyed him incredulously and looked to Dean, but his older brother just shook his head. They were in agreement.

Buffy gave them a long, hard look. Sam knew she wasn't going to listen. But after one more tense beat and another glance at where Kimber went, she reluctantly accompanied them as they left the crowd and party behind, making their way outside back at the Impala.

"Well, I'd say we finally found little 'Alice'." Dean said flatly.

Sam was greatly concerned. "You felt it too, didn't you, Dean?"

Dean gave him a look that said volumes.

Buffy was looking between the brothers, clearly upset. "You should've let me go after her. You just let it _get away_."

"We didn't _let_ it get away." Sam tried to explain.

" _Really_ not how it looks like." Buffy answered cuttingly, sharp with disapproval. "We had her, alright? I could've tracked her to her house and—"

Dean looked at her in exasperation. "And then what? You wouldn't even really know how to kill her. You kinda need a little bit of a _plan_."

"I _had_ a plan." The slayer rebuffed. "Follow her, find out where she lives, then come back later to take it out after digging up whatever kills a siren in your trunk o' weapons." She explained, giving them a 'duh' look.

Sam could hardly even fathom that 'plan'. "And if the weapon didn't work?"

"Then we would've known it's not a siren." Buffy answered simply.

Both Winchesters stared incredulously. Sam took a breath. "Look, we don't even really _know_ if it's a siren. And we don't have what kills that either right now."

The slayer frowned. "You _don't_ have it?" She said in disbelief.

"Yeah, we're just gonna have a bronze knife on standby— _Of course we don't have it!"_ Dean responded, his last words quick and angry.

" _Why_ didn't you keep it from your last hunt?" Buffy argued incredulously.

"Hey. Do _not_ tell us how to do our job." His older brother growled.

Sam grew frustrated with the two of them. "Guys, this isn't helping."

Buffy sighed and crossed her arms. "We just need to do something. She already started draining Lori's husband. This keeps going on any longer and we might not be able to save him."

Sam shared her concerns. Still, he tried to look at it rationally. "It usually takes a few weeks for these victims to drop. Based on how Derek looked, I'm guessing he's about two weeks in. There's still a little time."

"But what if we wait too long and killing her won't reverse all the effects?" The blonde slayer asked.

Dean shrugged. "Then we'll the bitch quick. She's gonna come back. She's gonna come back until she sucks Derek dry. It's not like we're gonna lose her now."

Sam frowned worriedly and shook his head. "I still don't get it. I mean, when you and I saw her ... Even with how sirens operate, something was _different_ about her."

"She was _plastic_?" Buffy deadpanned. "Any more implants and botox and she'd be de-throning Cindy Jackson or the Sarah Burge, the Bionic Woman."

"Cut the self-image sermon, Kathleen Hassan. That's not what he's talking about." Dean said irritably, stern. "There was some weird dub-con crap going on a second there. One look at her and it was ... " He shuddered and groaned in disgust. "I didn't get venomed. Did you get venomed?" He asked Sam.

"No. That was the first thing I even saw her."

"Yeah, me too." Dean admitted, puzzled.

Buffy was looking at them questioningly. "Venom?"

"Another siren goody bag. It's supposed to turn you into psychotic love puppy. But _this_ friggin' thing ..." The older Winchester informed, breaking off in annoyance.

"... She didn't need it. It was sorta like a spell." The blonde finished. "She must have some of kind of pheromone. I've seen it before. Makes all the guys crazy until dinner. Then you're pretty much the dinner." Frowning thoughtfully, she shook her head. "I didn't feel anything. I guess it only works on men."

 _What the hell_ is _this thing?_ Sam was truly baffled. He knew he found increased oxytocin levels in Darryl's blood, but nothing _except_ that matched up with classic siren behavior. It really made no sense at this point.

"Well, that isn't normal either. Really? Pheromones?" Dean spoke his thoughts.

"I'm not really sweating the details. We _have_ to kill her." Buffy's expression was deadly determined. "She's not even just a murdering monster. She's a murdering monster _and_ a homewrecker. That's, like, the two worst kinds of evil."

Dean shook his head. "It's freaky is all I'm saying. I mean, the draining, the timeframe, no venom ... what the hell kind of siren does that?"

"A siren Madonna?" Buffy offered glibly.

Sam was grim. "I don't think we're dealing with a siren."

* * *

~~Dean~~

"A _succubus_?"

Dean stared at Sam incredulously. His little brother was at his laptop in the motel. Some wrappers were still on the other side of the table from the fast-food the three of them had ordered. Buffy stood a sort ways from Dean, a soda in her hand and eyes slightly wide.

"Also called a qarînah. There's lore in every culture and religion. Christian, Judiasm, Buddhism, Hindu. Described as a 'demonic, seductive enchantress that walks in mortal men's dreams and feeds on their life force until they're marrow'." Sam read off expertly, giving him a meaningful look.

The older Winchester took a moment for it sink in. " ... Okay, so definitely not a siren."

"Yeah, but it's no wonder we got them confused. They're like the granddaughter of sirens. That's probably why the oxytoxin levels in the vics' were so high." Sam declared.

Buffy was frowning. "So ... they _also_ change form and play mind games."

His brother shrugged. "Basically."

"And by dreams ..." Dean began pointedly.

Sam looked a tad uncomfortable now, but when he spoke his voice was firm. "Sex dreams."

Dean nodded, unsurprised. Buffy made a face and looked away. "Well, at least that explains why Derek's overlooking the whole life-sucking turn-off. Pheromones _and_ sex dreams? There's no guy in the _world_ with the will." The blonde remarked, meaning in her voice.

"I concur." Dean deadpanned with a little nod. "So that's how it kills? Going in your dreams like some hot _Freddy Kreugar_?"

"Uh, sort of. But they usually establish a sexual bond outside the dreams too. Helps make the draining even faster. It uses pheromones and then some kind of toxin." Sam explained.

The older Winchester tensed. "Toxin? Like _venom_ , right?"

"Not _exactly_ like with sirens. It's more hormonal. It activates every sex hormone in the victim's body all at once. Oxytocin, testosterone, vasopressin ..." His brother furthered.

 _So instead of murderous love slave, it's_ crazed _sex slave?_ Dean thought incredulously. That wasn't nearly as bad. "... A monster _Viagra_. Nice." He replied flatly, shaking his head.

Buffy looked unimpressed. "A seductress that can't perform. Go figure."

"The lore says it's actually pretty powerful. The venom closes the deal. They inject you with it and you're gone." Sam said, giving them a warning look.

Dean and Buffy exchanged an underwhelmed look, then gave their versions of rolling their eyes and shrugging it off.

"... So they thrall you, give you a couple wet dreams, and sex you to death. Literally." Dean summed up blandly, processing. The whole thing was disgustingly twisted and only reinforced how much this thing needed to die. _Still, that's some way to go out_ _._ He couldn't but think dryly.

"Oh, good. The monster that's a fan of the _Red Shoe Diaries_." Buffy muttered.

Dean eyed her. "Do you have these things in your world too?"

" _Unfortunately_." The slayer said bitterly, glowering. "So how do we kill a succubus? I'm guessing me chopping it's head off with a Zambagorian axe isn't quite gonna do the job?"

Dean gave Buffy a weird look at the strange terminology. _And she calls_ our _world complicated?_

Sam looked back at his laptop. "Uh, according to lore ... fire."

"Awesome. Time to get out the flamethrower." The older Winchester replied with motivation, smirking. He couldn't help but be more than eager this time. This monster was a borderline rapist. Bitch deserved to go down in flames.

"It's more complicated than that, Dean. The legends say it only works when it's _feeding_. Any other time it's basically invulnerable."

Dean looked to Sam's meaningful face, deflating at the implications. There was only one way to work that and it definitely wasn't pretty.

" ... You mean use Derek as bait." Buffy remarked point-blank, saying all their thoughts.

Sam nodded regretfully. "They start to materialize late in the feeding. I think it's the only way."

Buffy said nothing, pensive. Dean grimaced, not wanting to do that for obvious reasons, but set it aside. "Don't got a choice, I guess. We can't just leave the poor guy as fodder for Kim Kardashian."

"Who's that?" The slayer asked, frowning.

Dean did a double-take. He looked at her in extreme surprise. "You mean you don't know who ..." He trailed off, remembering. Buffy was from an alternate universe. Different timeline. No Kim Kardashian (yet?). _I take back everything I said about her world._ The hunter thought with deep feeling.

"Is she supposed to be some kind of succubus?" Obviously Buffy was taking it as a movie reference.

Dean stared, compromised. He put on his pokerface. " ... Yes. Yes, she is." He said smoothly, meaningful.

Buffy only frowned deeper, but shrugged it off. "So the grand finale is at the Olsons. What about Lori? We can't kill the thing and have her there. We need to figure out a way to get her out."

"Maybe we can reason with her. She looked like she wasn't buying Kimber's innocent act back at the party." Sam suggested.

Dean shrugged. "Well, Kimber's been screwing with Derek—well, _screwing_ —right under her own nose. She might already know what's up."

"I don't know. Yeah, she was pretty hot over the whole Kimber-Derek thing, but I mostly just got 'jealous wife' vibe and not much else." Buffy admitted.

"You can't tell." Sam agreed, frowning.

Dean was skeptical. " 'Except it'd be'd really weird if Lori didn't at least have a hunch. This is all happening right in her own house."

"Denial's a powerful thing, Dean. It's crazy how much people can just rationalize and forget when they put their minds to it. We see it all the time." Sam answered matter-of-factly.

"It doesn't matter how much she knows or not. Just as long as she gets out." Buffy stated firmly. She turned weary. "I mean, we're already using her husband as bait. I don't think we need another hole-punch in our hero cards."

Dean sensed her concern. "We'll get in fast and we'll flame-on the succubus before she even gets her fix. Derek's gonna be fine."

Buffy looked at him. " ... He _has_ to be." She answered, her own promise in her words.

"He _will_ be." Sam reassured firmly. "Kimber's probably gonna be back for Derek tonight. We'll get the address. Break in late when everyone's asleep. That way we'll be able to kill it when it's ... _feeding_."

Buffy sighed. "So this is the plan." She relented glumly. She took one last large sip of her soda and tossed it into the trashcan. "I'll go to the Olson's when it's dark. Lori should be out of there by time I fry _American Beauty_." She stated, resigned but still determined.

" _I_?" Sam reiterated incredulously.

Dean's annoyance was immediate. This same old 'do-everything-by-herself' crap? "I think you forgot to put a _'we'_ somewhere in there."

"You guys can't come." Buffy said matter-of-factly. At the outrage in Sam and Dean's faces, she gave a little sigh. "Look, just—just _look_ at the situation. You said the succubus had a thrall on you. That doesn't work on me. If you go with, you're just gonna get in the way." She clarified.

The older Winchester could logic in it, albeit reluctantly. He was glad it wasn't another a burst of superiority for once. Still, he remained unconvinced. "It was only for a second. There were just _pheromones_. It's not like she's all up in us like she is like with her actual victims."

"She might have a point." Sam admitted reluctantly.

"But we snapped out of it!" Dean insisted impatiently. "We're not just regular guys, Sam. We aren't gonna let some pheromone or whatever get in the way in a fight." He argued with conviction. "Besides, we can't just let Buffy go alone."

"Hey. Still standing _right_ here." The blonde grumbled, throwing out her arms pointedly. "I'm only saying we shouldn't risk it. And you guys don't need to worry about me. I'm a _slayer_ , remember?"

Dean didn't budge. "You still shouldn't go by yourself." He told her sternly. "I get the whole pheromone thing ... but it's nothing. We're good. Let's hunt." He looked to his brother. "Sam?"

The younger Winchester frowned. "... Well, I guess we _did_ break the hold." He stated, warming up to the idea again.

"See? No problem." Dean said to Buffy pointedly, throwing out his hand.

The blonde slayer stared at them both, skeptical and reluctant. Finally she gave an annoyed shake of her head. "Okay, fine. We'll do this together. But one of us has to at _least_ get Lori out while the rest of us fight. Okay?"

"She'll be out of there." Sam reassured.

Buffy gave a grudging nod, clearly still with reservations. "Alright ... so flamethrower, huh?" Dean said casually, giving Buffy a charming smile to lighten her up.

The blonde just looked at him, not even cracking a smile. Still immune to his charms, huh?

They started plotting their plan. With time they found the Olson address and headed out together to Impala to get the flamethrower. "If you or Sam get in my way, I'm knocking you both out." Buffy stated to Dean as they were leaving the motel, completely serious.

Dean gave an easy nod. "Understood."

* * *

~~Buffy~~

Buffy and the brothers were at the Olson's the next night. It was late as planned, around midnight and everyone was most likely asleep. They advanced through the neighborhood over to the house, keeping a watchful eye for witnesses.

"Did you have to bring that thing?" Dean asked. Buffy looked to see him and Sam eying her scythe, disbelief on their faces.

"It'll help. You can still use it for the defensive." Buffy's tone was carefully even.

Sam was doubtful. "Yeah, but it draws a lot of attent—"

"It's a diversion! Let it be diversion-y!" The blonde said, her defensiveness peaking.

Both brothers were still clearly not thrilled, but didn't argue. Buffy instinctively stepped forward on the porch, about to force the door open with her strength. Her hand hadn't even grasped the doorknob when Sam stopped her. He nodded to Dean, pointedly holding up a lock-pick.

The slayer realized and after a moment, awkwardly stepped aside.

"Subtlety!" Dean whispered harshly.

Buffy, mildly embarrassed, scanned again for witnesses as he did this thing. She always forgot these guys could pick locks.

Dean forced the door open in record time. Buffy, Sam, and Dean emerged in slowly, alert and tense as they recognized dangerous territory. The house was dark with only a small light or two on. It _seemed_ quiet ... but if Buffy knew this was what it looked like, all the action was upstairs.

"Derek?"

Sudden light filled the room. Buffy and the Winchesters froze, whipping around. Lori stood a short ways from the front door, dressed in a dark business suit. The woman gasped, clutching her chest as she gaped at the intruding trio. "You ... You're the three from the party!"

Dean, under pressure and feeling it, made an awkward show of looking around. "Nice house." He complimented, giving a nervous smile.

The brunette's stare wandered, finally taking in the flamethrower Dean had and the incredibly out of place scythe Buffy was brandishing. Her eyes widened in fright and she backed away. "I'm calling the police."

" _No!_ No police. Look." Sam began quickly, holding his hands out calmingly. "Your husband is in danger. Something is after him. We're just here to save him before he ends up like the other ones." He told her in a hushed, urgent tone.

"What are you talking about?!" Lori remarked shrillly, distrust and fear clashing together.

The raised voice grated with Buffy. She glanced back at the staircase in frustration. _The succubus might be here right now. She's going to blow our cover._ If they lost "Kimber" here, then there was a good chance they weren't going to find her.

"You think your husband's sick? Got a little bit of the freaky flu bug going around?" Dean stated curtly, also impatient. Lori tensed. "Well, he's not sick. Something's doing it to him. And if you get in the way now so we don't kill it, he ain't gonna make it."

Lori stared at them uncertainly. "... Who _are_ you people?"

"We don't have time." Buffy said tersely, rolling her eyes as she headed for the staircase.

Dean immediately started to follow her. Lori moved forward. "Wai—"

Sam rushed over and covered her mouth quick. The woman made a few muffled noises, struggling but the tall hunter had her. "I'll explain everything, okay, Lori? After you get out." The brunette protested even more indignantly, but Sam was firm. "Look, I know this a lot to ask, but believe me we're trying to help you."

Lori seemed wildly torn and afraid. Sam glanced back at Buffy and Dean, still restraining the woman, and gave them a nod to go.

Buffy and Dean shared a look, then continued on. Upstairs there was pure silence. The bedroom was down the hall with it's a door open a crack. The two moved cautiously. Buffy hesitated at the door, not entirely sure what she would find beyond it. Every muscle in her body tense, the slayer pushed the door just slightly to glance inside.

A gray, humanoid shape was in her immediate vision. Thin, leathery skin clung to it's gaunt frame with little ridges on the side of it's cheeks and a mob of straggly, black hair complete with split ends and in desperate need of moisturizer. It had eye socket-like eyes. In contrast to the beautiful woman they saw at the party, this creature was pure ugliness. It was vaguely feminine only if you squinted.

Derek was lying under the succubus, letting out little shuddery gasps and groans that sounded like it hurt more uttering than what was causing it. He was sweaty and incredibly pained. The most disturbing was the succubus having a proboscis coming out of it's mouth, buried deep in Derek's neck. _She's killing him ..._

Buffy looked at Dean anxiously. The hunter was grim, grip tightening on his flamethrower. "We gotta lure her out." The Winchester said in a very quiet whisper.

The slayer focused back on the door. A plan was forming. "... Then I'll lure." She responded simply.

The blonde burst in. The succubus only had time to whip her head around snarling before Buffy tackled the creature full force, knocking it away from Derek and slamming it against the window with her scythe which cracked it on impact. "Little dating tip. If you _don't_ wanna lose a guy in ten days, you might want to revaluate your whole 'literally-sucking-the-life-out-of-you' angle."

The succubus growled, it's proboscis back in it's mouth as it pushed her off. The blonde kicked her, only for "Kimber" to try to claw her face. She dodged and slashed with her scythe. The succubus avoided it and landed a good punch before shoving Buffy into a nearby arm-chair, knocking it down. The slayer rolled with the chair, landing back on her feet in an instant as it came closer with an upper-cut slash.

"Kimber" growled as the scythe tore into her, leaving a cut on the side of her collarbone. It looked more pissed than hurt. "Fool! No blade can kill me." The succubus's was raspy and harsh, like it was unused.

The slayer leaped over the armchair. "Maybe not." She admitted flippantly. "But I bet you it sure as hell can maim." Buffy said, pure determination on her face as she immediately swung towards the arm.

The succubus evaded it. It's eyes landed on Dean, hovering with the flamethrower waiting for an opening. The creature snarled, punching the slayer and going for Dean. Buffy recouped on a dime and distracted it by firing out a series of rapid strikes, driving the succubus further out.

Finally the creature was disoriented, right in the doorway. Buffy jumped up, grabbed the top of the doorframe and swung her body, kicking it hard into the hallway, all the while still holding her scythe. Dean took his cue and activated the flamethrower. The succubus made a shrill, angry noise and narrowly moved out of the way. Buffy even saw a flash of singed hair.

Dean ran after her into the hall. Buffy followed and saw that the succubus was nowhere to be seen. The hunter was looking around agitatedly. Buffy, just a short ways behind him, saw it before he did. Her eyes widened. "Look out!"

The succubus was on the ceiling, holding on by it's claws. Dean only had a time to look up before it pounced, getting him on the floor as it clawed and furiously scratched at him. " _Die!"_ It rasped, snarling savagely in his face. It's proboscis flicked out, the bottom of it a knob lined with sharp teeth.

Buffy came over from behind and striked the succubus hard in the back of the head with her scythe. The monster roared, easing off on Dean. The hunter got control of his flamethrower and fired. The succubus gave a piteous screech, letting go of him to shy away from the flames and right into Buffy. The slayer grabbed her and slammed her into hall armoire, breaking wood and shattering glass.

Dean got up. Buffy turned, about to ask if he was okay, when she saw his wobbly smirk. "No can do, Megan Fox. I saw _Jennifer's Body_. You ain't getting me." He taunted.

 _He's fine._ A smile tugged at Buffy's lips.

The blonde slayer pulled the dazed succubus up, punching it with her free hand. "It's like I always say. Behind every plastic, fake, attention-getter is a evil, life-sucking monster." Buffy quipped, dodging a claw swipe and unleashing a swinging kick in the side to steer it closer to Dean's line of fire.

The slayer ended up locked with creature, the fight taking them further down the hall. Claws scraped her cheek and Buffy retaliated with a backhand punch. The two struggled, Buffy still trying to twist it around to Dean. The blonde ended up losing her balance and the succubus shoved her hard, right over the staircase railing. Buffy landed one last scythe cut as she went down.

A coffee table compete with fancy, metallic coasters and a glass vase "softened" her fall. The slayer winced as bits of wood and pieces of glass aggravated the force of the landing, holding herself a second as sharp pain shot through. Her scythe had fallen close by.

Back upstairs, the succubus had gotten Dean into a chokehold. "Derek is _mine_! _Mine_!" She snarled. "You hunters! Killing so many of us! Always meddling to take away what's rightfully ours!" Pure venom and fury was in it's grotesque face.

Dean was still struggling, clearly in pain, but kept his bravado. "You gonna kill me anytime soon? 'Cause your voice is like nails on chalkboard."

The succubus growled right in his face. "Maybe I'll feed on _you_ too! Maybe you'll be mine next!"

Buffy started to get up, recognizing the danger Dean was in. As the succubus's barbed proboscis flicked out, he freed himself by hitting the monster hard with the back of his flamethrower. Before the monster could regroup Dean struck out again, knocking _her_ hard over the railing with a flamethrower and spewing the flames. The succubus's ear-splitting screech as she fell proved the fire hit. Dean swung his body over the railing, landing on his feet.

"Nice move." Buffy said when he made his way over to her.

"Thought you needed payback." He replied with a shrug. Deep claw marks were on the sides of his neck and some on his face, bleeding and bruised. He was looking her over carefully. "Are you okay?"

The blonde gave her own shrug. "Better than _her_." The succubus was crawling a short ways away on the ground, growling softly from a burned arm and incapacitated. It looked practically finished.

"How'd you take a fall like that anyway? Aren't you supposed to always land on your feet or something?"

Buffy gave him an annoyed look. "I'm a slayer, not a _cat_."

"Yeah, I still don't know what that means." Dean remarked flatly. He looked around. "Sam?"

"Must still be getting Lori somewhere safe."

Dean nodded and immediately advanced to the wounded succubus. Buffy followed.

"What's the matter, K? Feeling _too_ hot?" The slayer mocked innocently.

The hunter readied his flamethrower. "Time to go out in a blaze." Noticing her unimpressed look, Dean turned defensive. "What? You make with the quippy puns and the one-liners and then I'm not allowed to?"

Buffy nodded easily. "There's not enough room for the both of us." Weren't hers so much better anyway?

Suddenly the succubus lunged for Dean. A purely desperate look was in it's eye as it caught it's last wind, clawing him and spitting on the hunter. The Winchester groaned in pain and disgust as is he immediately went to burn it, but the succubus knocked his flamethrower away in time and pushed him forcefully.

Buffy grabbed the succubus, twisting it around. "Could you be _any_ more chick fight?" She said in disdain.

The slayer punched her and threw in a backhand. "Kimber" spat on her just she went with a fierce roundhouse. Buffy reeled out of sheer unexpectedness, missing entirely. The succubus caught her leg and threw her clear across the room, crashing into a pantry door. She landed right next to Dean, banged up and sitting with his back against the wall.

The succubus glared at them. "You won't be able to get in my way anymore now. Derek is mine." She promised darkly. It quickly retreated upstairs.

Buffy, dazed, clumsily pulled herself to her feet. She shook her head to clear it. "She's going back for Derek."

Dean was getting up. "Yeah." He said distractedly. He looked over at her slowly. "Hey, uh ... did she spit on you?" He asked cautiously. Buffy only had to frown for him to get the drift. The Winchester drew in an exasperated breath. " _Crap_."

"What?"

Dean was freaking. "Her venom. It got me. It got us."

" _What?!"_ Buffy repeated incredulously. She shook her head. "No, that doesn't make sense. Why would she—"The blonde broke off to glance anxiously to upstairs. No time. "Look, if it is, it can't work on me. I'll save Derek. Just stay away from her and out of the way and ..." She blanked out suddenly, a strange sensation falling over her and just stared at Dean.

Every muscle in Buffy's body wanted to take off after the succubus, but she was paralyzed. Suddenly all she could do was stare at Dean, overwhelmingly drawn to him. His intense stare, his lips, his shoulders. It was all in pure surround-sound. Even with the bruises and claw marks he only seemed more enticing.

Dean gazed at her, a glazed over and distinctive look in his eye. Buffy recognized it on the spot. He had been injected with succubus venom, alright. Only it wasn't triggering him to the succubus. It was triggering him towards _her._

The Winchester started to move closer to her and Buffy, unwillingly swept up in this huge force, found herself meeting him. " ... I'll handle it." The blonde finished breathily, barely remembering what she was saying as her eyes kept moving from his lips to his eyes.

"Yeah ... handle it." Dean's voice sounded even hoarser than usual, focused fully on her lips as he moved even closer.

The ground seemed to fall out from under her as Buffy finally realized what was happening. The venom was all hormonal ... and who was the injected closest to? Each other. _Oh, this is bad. This is really, really bad._ The blonde slayer thought in panic.

She knew this couldn't possibly be them with these stakes. It was the succubus venom, drugging them to get them out of the way. She knew that in the last reasonable part of her mind ... but when Dean started to lower his head, all she could think about was letting it happen.

 _N_ _o. It_ can't _._

"W-We need to save Derek ..." Buffy said shakily, torn between fear and desire as Dean crossed her personal space boundary. All she could really think about was wanting him closer. _Too_ close. Dean couldn't pay any heed, so close to her now she feel his breath. Buffy stared in dismay. "We _need_ to." She whined.

The two stared at each other for a perilous moment, filled with lust and conflict. The succubus venom was pumping in her veins. Her body felt hot and aggravated, like her skin was tearing itself apart the longer she wasn't touching him. Finally the hormonal battle was lost when Dean sealed it with his lips.

Buffy instantly melted into him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her rationality dead and gone for the moment as she lost herself in the kiss. Dean's arms went to her waist and held her tight against him, allowing her to feel every muscle under his clothes. She moaned in his mouth. It was like she was on fire. Any move of Dean's lips or tongue didn't extinguish her. It only made her burn more.

 _No ... This is wrong. Derek ..._ Buffy thought, dimly remembering.

This was all part of the current monster of the week's plan. She was a slayer. A person was about to die. Slayers didn't let that happen.

A hole was chipped in her succubus-induced libido. Buffy moved her hands from Dean's face and neck to his shoulders to push him off. Instead she gripped them hard, distracted by the feel of his broad shoulders and his talented mouth. Damn this venom was strong.

They ended up stumbled together through living room, lips locked and unable to separate. The make-out session was becoming faster and more intense. The blonde summoned up enough will for one last desperate attempt to push Dean away before she tripped over a piece of wood and fell backwards into the couch, carrying the hunter with her. Buffy gave a surprised moan and the two finally broke apart, breathing heavy.

Dean was looking down at her. She saw past the evident desire in his eyes there was signs of conflict. She wasn't the only one trying to remember their job. Buffy had her hands on his arms, to push him or hold him she couldn't say. Dean hovered like he was trying to resist. Was _he_ going to stop them?

Dean dived for her mouth in reckless abandon, passionate and pure lust. Buffy was helpless to do nothing else but reciprocate, allowing him to deepen it with his tongue and emitting a small moan. She ran her hand down his arm as the hunter's hands start to roam all over her body, electrifying her with every touch. Buffy drew in a shuddering breath in their kiss and hiked a leg up his waist, intoxicated and aflame.

So much for that.

 _Derek ... We have to ..._ She thought, her mind fading. Everything was getting swept away by the spell the succubus put on them where nothing mattered except Dean and overwhelming need. If Buffy couldn't beat this, there was no way Dean could. An innocent man was in danger ... and neither of them were strong enough to help.

 _"What the hell? Dean?"_

Buffy and Dean swiveled their heads, breaking apart just barely. Sam was staring at them, shocked and appalled at the sudden heavy petting and intense make-out session he was witnessing. The blonde slayer, shot up with venom as she was, felt only very dim relief he was here.

"Sammy! ... Get the succubus ..." Dean said between breathes.

 _"You mean you didn't already kill it?!"_ Sam shouted furiously.

Dean shook his head. "It ... it _did_ something ... Went after Derek." It was clearly on a strain on him to explain. Immediately the hunter moved to kiss Buffy's neck. The slayer closed her eyes a second at the feeling, doing all she could to suppress a moan.

Buffy tried to help him out. "Venom ..." She clarified hoarsely, leaning into Dean's touch as she tangled her fingers in his hair.

"What? It's venom did this?" Sam asked incredulously.

Buffy finally cracked. Anger—at herself, at Dean, at everything—surged forth. " _Just go save Derek!"_ She snapped.

Sam hesitated, and then that did it for his brother. Dean pulled away from Buffy to glare at Sam. _"Go!"_ He said harshly.

The younger Winchester was still bewildered, but dropped all questions and finally obeyed. He found the flamethrower and grabbed it off the floor, running upstairs in a flash.

Finally the very last reasonable part of Buffy's mind crumbled. The slayer sunk back into Dean's lips, kissing readily and craving his touch as she ran her hands all over him. All Buffy could think about now was how much she never wanted this end.

* * *

~~Sam~~

Sam followed the pained noises that led him to succubus. The hunter barreled in the bedroom, doing a warning burst of his flamethrower. The succubus let out a startled, angry screech and glared at the newcomer.

Making a split-second decision, the wounded and tired monster abandoned Derek and went to escape.

Sam didn't let it get far. He rushed over and spewed the flamethrower just as it was at the window, hitting it dead-on. The succubus's piercing, dying shriek filled the air as it was burned alive. The ear-shattering scream finally died and Sam stopped, staring at the spot it had been. All that was left was ashes.

The Winchester let out a breath, still tense but relieved. He glanced over at Derek and hurried over to him. He was in his bed, stiff and wide awake now with a terrified look on his face. He managed a sidelong glance. "Is-is it over ...?!" He asked desperately, voice cracking in pain.

Sam was at his bedside. "It's over."

"K-Kimber, she-she ..." Derek went on shakily.

"She's gone. I promise." Sam replied.

Derek still looked scared. "I can't move ..." He told him, straining to sit up.

 _It does paralysis in the feeding too. It must take longer to fade._ He thought, recalling what he learned. Pity filled Sam as he recognized how traumatized this man was. He did a quick assessment. The man was still sick, pale, and undernourished ... but he still had a chance to live. If they had been any later though, it might not have.

"It's okay. We'll take care of you." Sam said reassuringly. He glanced over towards the window, staring at the ashes on floor. "She won't be coming back ... even in your dreams."

* * *

~~Buffy~~

Back downstairs, in the middle of a chaotic living room filled with broken furniture and burn marks ... were an oblivious and still very much lip-locked Buffy and Dean. They were starting to pull at each other's clothes, the blinding hunger intensifying and becoming unbearable.

Suddenly the unnaturally hot and tingly feeling left. The all-consuming pitch of their make-out session slowly died down. Buffy was still kissing Dean, softer now but still passionate, too caught up in the moment to even notice the spell had lifted.

Finally it hit her and hit her _hard._ Buffy's eyes flew open. She pulled back numbly and they stared at each other. The blonde took in it all: the swollen lips, the flushed face, the still slightly hooded eyes—all Dean staring back at her ... and she probably wasn't any better.

 _Oh, god._

Gotta love self-awareness. Always traumatizing.

Dean looked like he had no idea what to say. "... This is awkward." He finally said. Buffy just stared, wide-eyed and frozen like a true deer caught in the headlights. The hunter regarded this uncertainly a second, then gave a careful smirk. "But on the plus side ... you are an amazing kisser."

Buffy immediately shoved him off. Dean winced as he hit the couch's arm, clearly conscious of his injuries now with that spell gone that had blotted out even pain. The slayer righted herself, smoothing down her hair and clothes in an agitated fluster. "Do we _not_ have a job to do?" She grumbled.

Buffy got up and was already walking away, snatching her scythe off the floor as she went without a pause. She didn't dare make eye-contact. Dean watched her go, lingering on the couch with a frown. After a moment, a little smirk came to his lips.

The blonde slayer marched determinedly off to Sam and Derek. On the inside, she was a completely disjointed and jumbled mess. _This_ never _happened._ She thought intensely.

 _ **####**_

Sam had killed the succubus. Derek was still ill, but safe. They contacted Lori, who Sam had sent to her parents after managing to convince her of who they really were and what had been going on with her husband and she rushed him to the ER. A few days later, Buffy and the Winchesters visited Derek in the hospital.

Derek was sitting up in the hospital bed, dressed in patient garb with an IV through him. He was staring back at them tiredly. "They're putting me on medication and pumping me with fluids. Said I should be getting better in about a week." Derek gave a weak scoff. "The doctors think I'm some kind of health miracle."

"Let them think it. No point telling them the truth." Dean remarked.

Sam nodded. "You're gonna make it. That's the important thing."

A troubled look was on Derek's face. " ... S-She was just a neighbor. I didn't mean for ... And then the dreams ..." He trailed away, overwhelmed. "I knew something was different about her. That she wasn't human somehow. That she was the reason I was getting sick. But I couldn't break free. It-it was like she had complete _control_ over me." The man sounded tortured.

"... Well, she's fried now. You're a free man." Dean told him, trying to be helpful.

"You weren't her first victim, Derek. Lucky for you, you're her last." Buffy stated.

Derek blinked at them, not looking entirely reassured. He turned to his wife, staring at her shamefully. "I'm so sorry, Lori."

Lori looked pained, but wrapped her arm around his and kissed him on the head. "I know." She told him softly, resting her head on top of his and holding him close. "All that matters is that you're alright."

The elephant in the room reached all of them. Pity sharpened in the slayer for both. "It was the succubus. A spell. You weren't responsible for it or anything you did because you never, ever would've done it. Any of it. Ever." Buffy clarified _very_ firmly. Okay, so there was a little projective-yness.

Sam gave a brief frown. Dean, who Buffy had made sure to be as far away from as possible without being obvious, raised a brow. He looked amused. Buffy stubbornly refused to look at him.

"Thank you anyway. You guys saved my life." Derek responded in weak gratitude. "I still can't believe ... things like that really exist." He added, numb with weariness.

"Thank you too from me. We both owe you three so much." Lori said thickly.

Buffy smiled graciously. "Just another day's work."

"Well, we're gonna be on our way." Dean declared.

Lori turned dismayed. "Already?"

"We got a lot more stuff to do." The older Winchester replied, giving a rueful smile.

The Olsons took this is all in. Lori put her hand on her husband's shoulders. "Well, just keep in mind you three are always welcome."

Sam nodded. "We will. Either of you ever need us, we'll be there."

Derek studied the three carefully. " ... We're never going to see you guys again, will we?"

Silence fell. The trio just looked at the couple solemnly. "... Well, let's hope not." Dean answered simply, meaningful.

Lori and Derek got the message, understanding. The three of them finally bid their farewells and started to leave the hospital. Buffy still kept a careful distance from Dean, practically tying herself to Sam in an effort repress what happened between them. That was one bucket of confusing she was not going into.

"So do you think Derek's really going to get better?" Buffy asked once outside.

Sam nodded. "I think so. He wasn't as far along as the other victims. Any of the side-effects, I'm pretty sure the doctors can take care of."

"Wish you could say the same for the mental." The blonde slayer said grimly, glancing back at the hospital.

Dean shook his head. " _Succubuses_. Not a fan." He remarked with feeling.

"Succubi." Sam corrected.

The older hunter rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. I'm just glad it's over." Dean gave another disgusted shake of his head. "I swear. That sick whore was really one sick whore. I mean, who am I to cut short a good time? But when it's all mind games and _Teeth_ territory, we got problems."

His brother sighed. "Yeah. Honestly, I hope we never run into one again."

"Seconded." Buffy said with a nod. "I think I actually miss the flying she-devil biker type back at home. Less on the ... 'venom'."

Dean paused, studying her." ... Well, I don't know. Maybe something good came out of it after all." There was a meaningful look in his eye Buffy read all too well.

The slayer stiffened and gave him a look. Unwarranted memories of what they did under succubus influence flooded back. They stopped just in time thank god ... but she was still rattled. Buffy had been under mystical influence of the sexy kind before. Nothing new there. But it had all felt really, _really_ good. She hadn't had that in a long time ...

Dismayed frustration swept over Buffy. She had carefully been building up barrier between her and Dean in not letting anything happen between them ... and now that fragile barrier just got lopped by a grenade.

Sam scoffed and shook his head. "I guess succubi venom was more flexible than we thought. I still can't believe it could—"

Buffy felt the need to escape. "Y'know, let's just _not_ play the overanalyze game. _'Weird._ ' ' _Over'_. Time to live in the now." The blonde quickly dismissed, acutely uncomfortable. She gave an overly bright smile. "Succubus is dead. I'm one happy camper."

Sam looked he understood. Dean was just blatantly amused.

Not dare giving Dean a chance to say something, Buffy made her rapid exit to the car. She pushed down all the weird, confusing, wrong feelings that had stirred up again. She had already psych-analyzed this, remember? None of this wasn't anything she couldn't avoid.

 _T_ _his is all just side-effects. The monster's killed, I'm gonna work again on getting back home ... and possibly take a few cold showers._

* * *

~~Dean~~

It was their last night in Idaho and they were back at the motel. Dean was sitting on his bed in their motel room, a beer in one hand and a remote in the other as he flicked through the channels. Sam was over by the fridge, getting his own beer.

Dean was distracted and bored, unable to really find anything on basic cable appealing. "Y'know, I still don't really get it." He began, unable to hold back his thoughts anymore as he turned to his brother. "So the succubus doses victims with the venom to keep 'em coming. What the hell made it think it would work the way it did with me and Buffy?"

Sam twisted the cap of his beer. "It was probably only exclusive to just them and their victim when it's disguised. So when you two got injected, it just found the next closest thing." He theorized, like it was obvious.

"Yeah, and a Buffy's chick so ... different effect, I guess." Dean responded thoughtfully. The pheromones hadn't worked on her. It was a little surprising the venom did. _That stuff_ _really does pack a punch._ He thought with feeling, remembering his own experience. And boy did he remember.

"It _was_ pretty hurt, Dean. You two had it on the ropes. More than anything, it was probably just desperate." His little brother figured.

The older Winchester nodded cynically. "Yeah. Points for creativity, less on the kink." He deadpanned, drinking his beer. He shook his head. "That bitch. Messed with our minds and got us of out the way just to get to Derek. I'm glad _her_ ass is Kentucky-fried." Dean was truly bitter. He may joke around, but there were two ultimate things he hated: not being able to do his job and getting toyed with. This succubus did both.

"Yeah, no thanks to you and Buffy."

Dean immediately went on the defensive. "Hey, that wasn't us, alright? Well, mostly. The important thing is ... no more succubus. Sammy sang _"The Morning After"_ backwards and it's all gravy."

 _"What?"_ Sam exclaimed, frowning.

"It's from, uh, ... never mind." Dean responded, not bothering. He went back to topic and smiled. "Do you see how freaked out and jumpy Buffy was after? All shook up and rabbitty, it was cute." Dean said fondly.

Sam shrugged. "Can't really blame her. Her head got screwed with at the worst time."

The older Winchester sobered a bit. He understood that. In all honesty, as hot as that whole thing had been, he was pretty pissed about the way it happened too. He knew it was more than that though. Even if it had been because of the venom, a part of her had enjoyed it. Why else would she be so skittish?

Dean took a large gulp of his beer and set it on the coffee table. "I'm gonna go talk to her."

"Dude. _Still_?" Sam said wearily.

"What?" The older hunter exclaimed, turning defensively on his brother. "Does _everything_ I do just have to be some kind of 'get-in-her-pants' thing?"

His little brother scoffed. " _Well_ ..."

Dean waved his hand. "Come on. I'm not _that_ bad."

"Yeah, but you're not that great either." Sam countered.

Dean scowled petulantly. He had honestly let it go ever since Buffy rejected him a week ago. She wasn't coming around and he respected that. What happened between them under succubus influence was burned in his brain now though. How she kissed, how she felt. He had a _taste_ now. And while he _was_ going to talk to Buffy ... he'd be lying if he said he wasn't hoping again for a little more than "talk". So Sam almost had a point. _Almost_.

Dean sighed, sitting down on the bed. "Sam. We have a smart, young, _beautiful_ woman traveling with us ... and I'm just supposed to shrug that off, no problem?" He grumbled.

"Yeah, Dean! It's called _restraint_. You oughta try it sometime." Sam berated.

"Well, that's not exactly my strong suit. It's _hard_ , okay?" He responded impatiently, shaking his head in disgust and drinking. He even felt guilty a little, but he couldn't help it. A part of him had just been completely nerfed by that stupid succubus venom.

"What you're trying to do _isn't_ helping her, Dean."

The older Winchester started at Sam's firm tone. He eyed him carefully, the beer bottle still in his mouth, then slowly pulled it out and gave a smile. "Oh, I see. You ... you _like_ her, don't you?" He called out, pointing at him.

Sam gave him a look. _"Dude_ ..."

Dean shrugged. "Hey. I don't blame you. I mean, have you met her?" He admitted matter-of-factly. True to the bro code, the older hunter relented. "Hey, if you want a shot at her, I'll—"

"Okay, so she's cute. Doesn't mean I'm crossing that boundary." Sam stated, curt and to the point as he gave him a meaningful look.

Dean gauged him just to be sure he was serious. He sighed. "Okay. Look. If I _was_ going to hook up with her, and I'm not saying I am, alright? But if I was, why does that make me the bad guy?" He challenged. "I just got the slipped the succubus E and finally made out with a hot chick who's around us all the frickin' time. How the hell would you feel?"

Sam turned meaningful. "Dean ... committed and unattached ... they don't mix well." He warned.

The message his brother was sending finally reached Dean. The hunter paused. Sam's theory about Buffy finally refreshed itself. In all the excitement left over from their "spontaneous" make-out session, he had actually forgotten that. Dean sobered for real this time, considering that carefully.

Dean found he felt a little insulted. Sure, he still got around. He slept around with a lot of women, but he never promised them anything but a good time. He would never lie or pretend anything else anymore, even for sex. He had a little more respect for them than that and certainly Buffy.

" _Come on_ , Sam. I don't got my smokescreens up, okay? No illusions, no false promises. _I_ don't do that. She knows exactly what this is." Dean insisted, very stern about it. "I've only been trying to uncork her bottle a little. God knows she needs it."

Sam looked unsure. "I'm just saying ... she's been though a lot. You don't want to go down that road."

"She'll be _fine_ , Sam. Anything happens, nothing _will_ happen. I'll make sure of that." The older hunter continued, growing annoyed. "Besides, Buffy's going to back to her world either way anyway. No drama."

Dean understood Sam's concerns, but just didn't see how it'd be an issue. Dean cared about Buffy. He liked her. He liked her enough to not let her like _him_.

Sam paused, frowning. He shook his head. "I still don't think it'd be a good idea."

"Don't _worry_ about it." Dean answered gruffly. "You _know_ I got terms. Do you honestly think I'm just gonna walk right into this?" He expressed indignantly.

Sam didn't protest, but still looked doubtful.

Knowing there was nothing either one of them could say that would make the other see his point, an exasperated Dean shut down the conversation and rose from the bed to leave. His brother didn't argue as he left the room.

"Okay, Dean. You're just here to talk. You're not gonna try anything. No, you're just gonna talk to her and-and _that's it_." The hunter said to himself as Buffy's room number came in sight, fighting with himself all the way down the hall until he finally stood frozen at her door.

Dean stared, caught in the junction of temptation and consideration. He felt like he had a frickin' Angel Dean and Devil Dean on his shoulders like in the movies. It was touch and go for a second, but finally Angel Dean took the wheel. The hunter took a deep bracing breath and knocked. _You got this._

A beat passed. The door opened and Buffy appeared. Her face fell as soon she recognized him. She stared, weary and resigned.

Dean tested the waters with a smile. "Hey. Mind if we talk?" He asked, sounding nothing but friendly.

The slayer squinted at him suspiciously. "Depends. Can I just slam this door in your face?"

Dean was amused. "Well, you could, but then I'll just stand out here." He joked. Buffy rolled her eyes, but the hunter pushed on. "Can I come in?" He asked kindly.

Buffy still stood in the doorway, holding the doorknob. She eyed him warily before stepping into the hall, closing the door behind her. She gave a little sigh and crossed her arms. "What is it?"

Dean paused, unsure how to start. "... I just wanted to say thanks for helping me and Sammy with the cases. You never really _had_ to. I know we still haven't gotten you home yet. I'm sorry about that." He couldn't help but feel guilty. It felt like she was helping them more than they were helping her.

The blonde still looked cautious, but slowly began to relax as he talked. " ... It's not really your fault. It's not like you guys haven't been trying. Not to mention our little winged messenger hasn't exactly come forward yet with any magical scythe updates." She said resignedly.

Dean became pensive. He was still sore over Cas not telling them about Labolas's visions, but staring at Buffy's resigned face seemed to make it worse. Unease and worry affected him deeply. He couldn't help but wonder again if it had really been a good idea to involve Cas in all this. Would anything _good_ come out of him helping Buffy?

"... Well, you know Cas. He's flighty."

Buffy looked slightly amused. "Pun intended?"

Dean smiled a bit, but still felt guilty. "We don't need to depend on just Cas to find this scythe. We beat to our own drum."

Buffy looked at him for a moment. She softened and gave a little smile. " ... It hasn't been that much of pain, y'know. The helping you hunt part. I mean, it's either that or pull all my hair out worrying. I'm not really looking to live in my headspace." She admitted.

The hunter gauged this carefully. Was that an invitation?

The Devil Dean on his shoulder was fighting back again. _Nope. Not today. You said you wouldn't. Come on._ Dean berated himself, trying to stick to his word. What was the point? It's not like they made out _without_ influence. It probably wasn't an invitation and after all the times this girl rejected him, pushing it again would just be—

"You don't want to live in your head? Well, I could ... I could arrange that." Dean said lamely, giving her a meaningful look.

Whoops.

"And _suddenly_ my headspace is warm and inviting ..." The blonde mocked, starting to head back to her door.

Dean followed. "Well, you could use a little break. You need to ... shut your brain off for a while. Blow off some steam." He wheedled, cool and suave once again as he stared at her intensely.

Buffy stared back a long moment, expression unreadable. The hunter held his breath waiting for her answer. " ... _That's_ what the monsters are for. Believe me, I do _not_ need you for that." She declared point-blank.

Immediate disappointment rained down on Dean despite himself. "Well, I just figured—"

"That we had _one_ make-out session on account of mystical influence and now just maybe I might jump your bones?" The blonde said flatly, giving him a pointed look.

Dean froze. He hadn't really given it much thought before, but that's exactly what this was. " 'Course not." He bluffed, too embarrassed to admit it.

Buffy rolled her eyes and shook her head. "... And here I thought you _finally_ gave up."

The Winchester found Mr. Suave again. "Well, given the little taste I got earlier, I don't see a good reason why I should." He answered, looking her over.

Buffy stiffened, fully aware where his eyes were wandering. She stared him down sternly. "That was the succubus."

Dean smirked in amusement. She was so funny when she tried to deny everything. She didn't even want to admit she was attracted to him. "Sweetheart, I think we both know that's not entirely true." He said reprovingly.

The blonde slayer said nothing, looking annoyed and uncomfortable. A few moments passed. Buffy crossed her arms and tilted her chin defiantly. "You're not my type." She stated stubbornly.

Dean took that comment like a blow, just for a split-second. He came back to himself and stared at her solemnly. _Alright ... time to lay out all the cards. Make it or break it._ He was going to get to the heart of this once and for all. If they were on the same page, great. If not, then well ... whatever. Maybe it was for the best.

"... Trust me, Buffy. I ain't asking to be your type. I'm just asking for a good time." Dean told her in all honesty, meaningful.

Dean wasn't an idiot. He didn't need Sam as his Jiminy Cricket either. Strings were not his thing and in this case, it'd be worst mistake ever. Buffy was from a different world that they were supposed to get her _back_ to. But as long as he wasn't her type like she said, then that was good technically. It was workable. Sheet-wrinkling with her would be smooth-coasting.

A long moment passed. Buffy looked to be considering. She paused and gave him the once-over.

Dean was pleasantly surprised at this and smiled at her charmingly for full-effect. Had he finally gotten somewhere?

Another tense, precarious moment passed. Buffy's mood shifted. She was watching him with unease. " ... This is a bad idea. Trust _me_ , _I know_. I'm sorry, but I have a thousand important things to do that's _not_ play-time with you." She answered feelingly.

The hidden implication registered with Dean. "So you _do_ want too ..." He couldn't help but say, just as Buffy was turning back to her door.

The slayer glanced back at him. "No is no. Now lose the bedroom eyes 'cause it's not gonna happen."

Dean was in disbelief. It amazed him how this chick could still reject him after what happened. _That cork must be welded on._ He thought significantly. She certainly had more willpower than _him_. One bout of kissing and touching in his memory banks and he was complete putty in her hand.

Dean shook his head. "You're a lot of work, y'know that?" He said tiredly.

Buffy looked at him as she was closing her door. "That's usually when you stop trying." She quipped.

Dean stood outside the door for a few moments, spun and contemplative as he stewed in rejection yet again. A sudden little smile came to his face. Buffy wasn't an easy girl ... but maybe he liked that about her.

* * *

 **A/N:** **... So yep, it was succubus. ;) Good job everyone guessing. I know in certain lore siren and succubus are close to same thing so I just made succubi a branch of the family. The "big surprise" of course was the impromptu Dean/Buffy make-out session via succubus venom. I'm sure no one expected _that_ to be the first kiss, but I wanted to do something different than most Buffy/Dean fics. I kind of had fun with it, but it does have a purpose. ****About Buffy turning down Dean again ... Buffy is a little older in this fic than in S7 so she's trying to be smarter and have more self-control. I'm purposely keeping it ambiguous how much you think they like each other until the big shift in their relationship. We're getting close tho. For now, accept my tease. :)**

 **The two-part succubus arc was supposed to be a fun, lighter one. Enjoy it while lasts because next chapter is back to plot and will be the total opposite. Next chapter actually is one of the favorite chapters in this whole story period. I might try to get it out sooner, just because I love it so much. It will definitely be a benchmark. ;)**

 **NEXT CHAPTER:** As Dean and Sam catch wind of Crowley's movements, Castiel reappears with unexpected information and an agenda of his own. Tensions rise further than ever, however, and trust is tested. In the midst of this, Buffy is dealt devastating news that may change her forever. Things start to fall apart and no relationship will ever be the same ...

 _ **Thanks for the 71 favorites, 120 follows, and 68 reviews! :)**_


	11. Chapter 11: Broken Boulevard

**A/N:** I'm back. :) Now it's time to get the chapter we've all been waiting for. I know I have. I just need to remind you all this isn't exactly your average Buffy/Dean fic which are usually complicated enough on their own. They're literally from alternate universes and Dean and Sam promised to send her back home. Those two differences would impact their relationship and how it progresses a lot.

In response to my guests, Benny will definitely appear and be resolved different than he was in actual S8. For wrong, Dean and Sam never had to bear their responsibility being chosen until they were much older than Kevin and Buffy and not in the proactive sense either (they're just vessels). Buffy doesn't know about that yet, but the whole "they don't get it" thing still made sense.

This chapter is an alternate take on the episode " _ **Goodbye, Stranger**_ ", but just as emotional (hopefully lol?). My policy for this fic is "Not S8 just with Buffy, but with S8 references". This is one of those references. I'm particularly proud of this one and loved writing it so I hope you all enjoy it. :)

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or Buffy. All rights belong to Joss Whedon and Eric Kripke. All I get out of this is entertainment and storytelling practice.**

 _ **Open to constructive criticism/OCCness thoughts!**_

* * *

 _Broken Boulevard_

~~Buffy~~

The slayer was on a laptop, sitting up on the bed in her empty Missouri motel room. Multiple search pages were pulled up, all with similar titles (historical scythes, biblical scythes, mysterious scythe sightings, etc.). She was on the one titled _"Scythe of Zaphkiel_ ". There was a caption of your average angel with curly hair and fluffy wings brandishing a gnarled black scythe and overlooking a battlefield.

Buffy stared at the picture, feeling like a masochist as longing and unhappiness swelled in her chest. No matter what she did or how hard her and the brothers searched it stayed just out of reach. Sometimes it felt like it was just another thing she could never have.

Another two weeks had been added on to her stay in Winchesterworld. For two months now, she's been away. Away from her friends, away from her duty ... and every day she was reminded of that was another day that sinking feeling in Buffy's stomach sunk just a little bit deeper.

 _I wonder how everyone's doing_. Had the military attacked while she was gone? Was there finally all-out war? Did more slayers die? Was Dawn okay? It all hurt so much to think about, especially Dawn. The anger in her sister's eyes after the slayer so callously lectured her in their last conversation haunted her.

 _Why would_ Dawn _miss me? She practically already didn't have a sister. It's not like I made such a 'big difference.'_ Buffy thought self-loathingly.

Her shoulders slumped and she sighed. She missed her friends ... but she had already been missing them, way before she got sent to an alternate universe with only two sometimes three guys for company. Her friends were _so_ just wrapped up in their own lives reveling in the purpose of a demon-slaying organization. They weren't her. They weren't the leader who had to sacrifice everything. Buffy completely devoted herself and yet couldn't be a part of it.

So now, when she _really_ thought about it (and the downside of being here gave her nothing but time to), what was the real difference between being stuck here and being back there?

Buffy had been telling herself ever since she got here she couldn't imagine how everyone could function without her ... but maybe imagining was the problem. Maybe, after all her mistakes with the slayers and how far apart her and her friends had become, they were better off. They didn't need her anymore. Because she wasn't good enough. And that, _that_ was what she was truly afraid of.

The blonde completely lost focus on the article, engrossed in her thoughts. It didn't matter where she was, in this world or hers. She just felt so alone. The loneliness just seemed to eat away at her, she was so lonely. It's been this way for so long Buffy was practically numb to it now.

Suddenly there was knocking on the door. Buffy stared at it blankly a second before the depressed slayer shut down the laptop, set it aside and went to answer. Sam and Dean came bustling in, fast food on them and a little more serious than usual.

"So ... I'm gonna guess you took care of that weird Lazarus Rising guy in Montana?" Buffy asked.

Both brothers casually tossed aside their duffels in different parts of her room. "It turned out he wasn't actually a bad guy. He just had a lot of bad luck." Sam clarified, sympathy in his voice.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Turned into something to do with dying, gods, and a kid. It didn't exactly end pan out." He explained in a slightly clipped tone.

"Wait, you mean you ran into gods? _Real_ gods?" Flashbacks of the Hell-god Glory were triggered right before Buffy's eyes. "You're _okay_?" She said in disbelief. The brothers looked mostly fine which honestly startled her the most.

Dean shrugged. "We made it out."

"They weren't exactly after us." Sam told her.

Dean fished something out of the fast food bag and threw it to her. Buffy caught it in surprise. It was a wrapped burger. "Got you something on the way. Y'know, in case in all the scythe-snooping you forgot to _eat_ again ..."

"It's been a day already?" Buffy played off innocently. Dean gave her a pointed look and the humor she was faking evaporated. She glanced back down at the burger. "... More cheap, drive-thru food. Yum. You sure know how to treat a gal."

"Sorry it's not gourmet enough for you."

She realized she had offended him. Buffy sighed in frustration. "I'm sorry. It's just ... my scythe-snooping is still without the karmic snoop rewards. I've been in St. Louis running through that witch bar all week trying to find one to get me out of here."

"Well, that was your idea, not ours." Dean muttered.

"It was never a good one in the first place." Sam stated bluntly.

Buffy scowled a bit. "I had to do _so_ _mething._ Your witch friend James is still too new at spells to send me back and not get anyone hurt so I branched out. Granted it turned out to be more fist-fight-y than—"

"Well, what else did you expect? It's a friggin' witch bar." The older Winchester cut her off as he sat down and digging into his bacon cheeseburger. "You shouldn't have gone fooling around with them and their microwave fingers."

The blonde rolled her eyes. Oh, she remembered this. Dean and Sam had practically had her head when she told them her plan of mingling with the witches for a spell home after the "case" with James and the familiars wrapped up. The brothers had made such a big deal about it. They only finally got off her back when she swore she'd be careful and not just give away everything.

Buffy joined the brothers at the table to eat. "Did I need to rewind you back to my _'Not all witches are bad'_ speech? It's not always a quote _'gank them or they gank you world_ ' unquote." The blonde muttered with a pointed look.

"You didn't know them. Walking up to a bar full of witches you don't even know is like putting a target on your back." Dean said severely.

Sam nodded. "Especially in your case."

"It's not like I told them _a lot_. The whole thing was basically one part pretending to be a witch trying to learn a spell, one part cliffnotes, and one part beating for information. And it was all a big waste of time so let's move on." Buffy explained flatly, more than a little bitter.

Sam and Dean exchanged a disgruntled look, then continued eat.

"We managed to get a few words out one of the gods while in Montana. None of the greek gods brought you here and they don't know what did." Sam told her.

"Do they have the power to send me back?" Buffy was not looking to get tangled with a god again by any means, but if they were an alternative, then she would do whatever it takes.

The brothers paused, tenser now as they glanced at each other. " ... They do." Dean replied. A meaningful, sympathetic expression on his face. "But it still comes with the price."

Buffy closed her eyes painfully and looked away. Castiel's warning to her about the unpredictable consequences in what bringing her back might cause to this world flooded over her. _Even gods wouldn't be able to stop the sky from splitting._ "I-I can't do that ..." She denied softly, shaking her head.

"It's okay. We'll find another way." Sam reassured.

Buffy was disheartened. "Before ... me and sister, we were fighting a lot. I-It got pretty bad." She began uncomfortably, avoiding their eyes. "The last thing I told Dawn was that she needed to grow up. That she was selfish. Maybe from now on when she thinks about big sis, that's what she has to remember me by." The blonde lamented.

Dean and Sam said nothing, strange but meaningful looks on their faces.

Dean scoffed. "Being at your little sibling's throat? Hey, I know what's that like." Despite the hunter's tongue-in-cheek tone, there was sudden tension in the air. "Look, you ... you _will_ be sent back, okay? That's not gonna be the last thing you said to Dawn. I won't let it."

There was such sincerity and conviction in his voice, like there was no other option. Dean had no idea how bad things have gotten between her and sister. They haven't been the same since the slayers were called. At the same time it still felt like he understood ... and for the first time that was enough.

Sam glanced at his brother, an uninterpretable but equally meaningful expression on his face, then turned back to Buffy and nodded.

The slayer shook her head. "I just need that scythe. I'm still waiting on Cas." With more exasperation, she went on, "Why does he even have a cell phone? He never even answers."

"Yeah, well. You get used to that." Dean mumbled, biting into his burger again.

"It's just _annoying_. He's the one that's all-knowing about this scythe. He's supposed to my guide in this deal and he's not doing the guiding."

Sam sighed and shook his head. "Honestly, we never really know what Cas is doing. He shows up when he shows."

The slayer was unconvinced. She paused, conscious of her next words. " ... Maybe he isn't trying to help me at all." She voiced, quiet but firm as she met their eyes.

The brothers tensed. "What do you mean?" Dean asked, his tone and expression hard to place.

"I just think there's something ... _weird_ about him." Buffy said lamely, brows furrowed. Cas seemed sincere sometimes. But other times ...

"Well, Cas has never exactly been normal. He's like classic Down-Syndrome angel." Dean replied.

The slayer shook her head. "No, that's not what I meant, although ... true." She acknowledged. "When he took me on that college field-trip for the scythe, it ended up not being there. Instead I got Labolas and my ass kicked. I know he said he had no idea about him ... but honestly it felt staged." Buffy admitted reluctantly.

"You think Cas lured you there?" The older Winchester said incredulously.

Sam too looked disbelieving. "Why would Cas do that?"

She knew she was treading dangerous waters now, but it had to be said. "If he heard rumors the scythe was there all along, wouldn't he already have checked by then? Doesn't it feel like _really_ convenient?"

Sam and Dean exchanged a tense glance, saying nothing.

Buffy couldn't read it. "Look. I've been giving Cas a pass because you're my friends and he's _your_ friend ... but that's not enough anymore. I don't really know if he's hiding something. Maybe he isn't. I just can't really _trust_ him. I'm sorry."

Dean shook his head. A pained expression came to his face and when he looked back at her, he was fighting to mask it. "Don't worry about Cas. Like I said before, we don't need 'em. We'll find this scythe all by ourselves if we have to." He was trying hard to sound reassuring even though he was upset.

"Of course." Sam agreed.

Buffy didn't answer, avoiding their eyes. She hadn't given up, but it was difficult to be super-hopeful.

" _Hey."_ Dean's much firmer voice forced her to looked up. His expression was meaningful. "I was stuck in Purgatory for a year. I got out. I don't see why you can't."

 _I don't want to be here a year._ Buffy thought sadly. She may be a chockfull of insecurities over everything that was home, but it was still home. She knew what she was thinking wasn't what Dean meant though and appreciated him nonetheless.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." The slayer gave a grateful little smile.

The three of them ate. Cas wasn't mentioned again, but she could feel what she said struck a cord in the brothers, particularly Dean. Buffy worried if maybe she had over-stepped. They knew the angel for years after all, and her just a couple months. Even though she regretted it, she wasn't sure what else she could do.

Sam and Dean decided to book a room for the night and then tomorrow head back to Kansas. Apparently they were leery of being in St. Louis any longer than necessary. Something to do with bad runs in-with cops, evil monster clones, and being framed for murder. On two _separate_ occasions.

The brothers were leaving. Buffy managed to at least catch Dean by the door as he was reaching down for his duffel. "Hey! Uh, what I said about Cas ... maybe I-I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."

Dean looked at her. "... _Are_ you?"

His meaningful expression gave her pause. They both knew the answer to that. "I just know he's your friend."

"No, it's alright. He's never around when you need him. I get that." The hunter said dismissively.

Buffy didn't really believe he did. "I wasn't exactly saying you _can't_ trust him ..." She responded nervously.

"Look, Buffy, it's _okay._ " Dean's tone was hard now. Immediately he reined himself in and sighed. "I mean—You don't know him, you don't trust him. That's smart."

The slayer frowned. He was being unexpectedly understanding over this. "You aren't mad?"

"Of course I'm not." Dean gave a wry huff. "Who would trust a mysterious guy in a billowy coat? That's ... that's just nuts."

Buffy paused. Angel, Spike, and Whistler came to mind. Suddenly she felt a bit awkward. " ... Valid street advice." She answered lamely, nodding.

Dean managed a bit of smile, though still seemed uncomfortable. "Just ... just don't act like Cas is the only one on this—this scythe thing. Okay?"

That almost sounded like a warning this time. The slayer was confused, but nodded anyway. "I know. I'm not."

The hunter left the room, catching up with his brother. Buffy watched them go from the doorway, a troubled frown on her face. She finally shared her Cas skepticism and instead of taking his side it almost seemed like Dean took hers ... and that was weird.

All Buffy did know was that she was concerned. She could tell Dean was hurt over Cas and since she wasn't one hundred percent sure Castiel was bad news despite slayer instinct, she didn't want him to tear himself apart over a maybe. She felt bad. Especially with him completely ignoring the _'hurt'_ part and making it all about her and getting her home.

Dean subjects tended to be pretty head-achy to think about anyway. Things between them had been ... _weird_ since the succubus incident. Dean wasn't trying to get in bed with her anymore which was good. Except now there was tiny part of Buffy that said it wasn't and they both felt it. Enter these weird little moments.

Not that Dean was her type. Maybe he had the looks. Sure, he fought monsters and wasn't a stranger to apocalypse. He was brave and mysterious and took charge. He had a _"a bad boy"_ thing about him with a lot more demons than he let on, but none of that even remotely—

 _Oh, god. He_ is _my type._ Two months-worth of denial finally shattered. Horror, dismay, and a little fear swept over Buffy. Suddenly her "safe" Dean concern and "safe" lusty feelings didn't seem so safe.

"I _so_ need to get out of here." Buffy said in deep feeling.

 _ **####**_

It was not even a day and the Winchesters already found a new job. Sam called her first thing in the morning about a string of similar murders in different states with unusual burns and liquefied organs. As usual it was left up to her, but Buffy didn't want to think for one moment about being stuck here. She wasn't going to find anything yet. She desperately needed a release. Slaying was her best—her _only_ option.

Buffy didn't dare consider Dean. There was too much danger and she couldn't risk that when she had priorities. Specifically going back home. Maybe lonely, emotionally vulnerable, twenty-one year old Buffy would give in ... but lonely, emotionally vulnerable, twenty- _five_ year-old Buffy? Nah. She was too smart for that.

Buffy packed and after checking her hair and make-up in the mirror went to wait for Sam and Dean at the car. Right when she was out the door, she recognized her cleaning lady heading toward her. She had been coming in and out her room all week.

"Oh, it's all yours this time. I'm done with the room." The slayer told her as she came up, stepping aside and leaving the door open.

The cleaning lady nodded. "I hope you had a nice stay."

They had an exchange of polite smiles before Buffy went to leave. The blonde barely made it past the woman when suddenly arms wrapped around her neck in a strong grip. The slayer reacted, throwing her body back and slamming the assailant against the wall. A moment of grappling and she broke free, whirling around pinning the person with her arm by the neck.

Black, soulless eyes dead ahead. Resignation filtered through Buffy. "... Just when I was starting to think you guys forgot about me." She stated flatly.

One glare from her apparently demon-y cleaning lady and it attacked. Buffy dodged a punch and threw her own, but the demon kicked her away hard. The blonde and demon came to blows. Buffy quickly got her duffel that had fallen on the floor and swung it hard, hitting it in the face and propelling it back into her motel room.

The blonde reached in her bag quick as a flash and found the angel blade. "What was it that tipped you guys off this time? My esteemed motel patronage?" Buffy ridiculed, approaching with weapon raised.

The demon had started to get up. "So it's true what Mr. Crowley said about you. You really are more than human." She observed. "Y'know, it wasn't so hard finding you. St. Louis witches. They talk."

"I am _so_ not in the mood." The slayer said menacingly. "I'm only giving you this one chance. You and all the other cronies back off or else _King Python's_ looking at a serious downsizing."

"Sorry, hon. Crowley calls." Cleaning lady demon replied automatically, smirking at her.

 _No one ever takes the 'one chance'_. She thought in bitter frustration. Buffy glared with cold threat. "You're not gonna answer."

And the fight commenced. The blonde slayer attacked with ferocity, desperately seeking release from the back-breaking stress she's feeling far too long. When the demon dodged her angel blade, Buffy swung her body around on a dime and kicked it hard right into the small TV set. Cleaning Lady Demon narrowly evaded the next, destroying parts of the table. The demon rolled, grabbing the busted up television and throwing it at her.

It was too close to dodge. The TV hit Buffy right in the face, disorienting and unbalancing her just enough for the demon to tackle her onto the bed. Cleaning Lady Demon was on top of her, pinning both arms over her head. Buffy resisted, making sounds of struggling but the monster was putting all it's strength in it.

The demon leered down at her. "Crowley wants you brought in alive. Keep on struggling and I just won't have a choice." Evil Cleaning Lady responded patronizingly.

The slayer made an angry noise, trying even harder to free her hands. Her angel blade was above her on top of the bed. So close. "What do you _want_ from me?!" Buffy demanded.

The demon's answer was a smirk. Suddenly it's eyes widened and it gasped. A flickering in it's body all too familiar erupted. Buffy glanced up as the monster fell on her, seeing Dean's hard expression as he ripped his knife out and shoved the dead demon off her. Sam rushed to her side, sliding in on the bed as he helped her up.

"Are you alright?" The younger Winchester asked.

Buffy let him steady her, reaching up for her angel blade as sat up. She felt a small gash on her forehead. "I really hate this place." She grumbled.

"She's alright." Dean said flatly, giving a nod.

"How the hell did they even find you? We've been using hex bags to cover our ass this whole time." Sam said incredulously.

"Well, they, uh, must've caught a trail _somehow_." Dean responded distractedly. The hunter was searching her room. "You didn't salt the _door_?" He suddenly said when he was crouched down, throwing her an outraged look.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "They haven't tracked me in a while. So sorry I slacked on the reverence of condiments."

" _Hey!_ Smartass! _I'm_ not the one that had a demon get the drop on me." The older Winchester answered with an edge as he stood back up, his look stern. "That mother could've _Zero Dark Thirty-_ ed you."

"You shouldn't have slacked." Sam berated. "I mean, _cleaning lady?_ That's one of their oldest tricks in the book."

Buffy had accepted the fact Sam and Dean were both very paranoid people. There wasn't a door they wouldn't answer without getting a gun out. This time though their paranoia was right. She sobered and looked down. "... They found me through the witch bar. A super-powered blonde girl mixing it up in _Wicked's_ hang-out I guess they took as a hint."

A tense moment passed. The brothers exchanged a glance with varying degrees of annoyance. Buffy braced herself.

" _See!_ Target!" Dean blurted, pointing at her. "We _told_ you it was a bad idea!"

Buffy also understood by now lecturing, angry Dean was his way of showing concern ... but she still didn't like it. "I don't _care_ if it was!" The slayer snapped. "I had to know for sure if I'd find a way back to my friends in there or not. I'd do it again."

Dean paused, staring at her. He looked away. "... We just really gotta get out of this town. There's no way Crowley sent just one." Dean said, brisk again.

 _Definitely not._ Buffy was even more weary. She shook her head. "I just wish I knew _why_. What does he really want from me?" She expressed, confused and frustrated. It was just like the government manhunt at home. She was being hunted for no good reason _again_.

"He might be using you to get to us and to get to Kevin ... or get you _possessed_ ... or both." Sam reasoned with ease.

Buffy frowned. _Possessed?_

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, that sounds like him." He agreed flatly. "I dunno about the possession though. It's not like Buffy's human." There was nothing but pure matter-of-factness in Dean's voice, but it still stung.

"... I _am_ human." Buffy said, hurt.

The older Winchester realized he upset her. He hesitated a second, then hardened. " ... No, you're not. Not completely." Dean responded, serious yet sympathetic as he stared at her.

The blonde slayer didn't respond. She knew the hunter didn't mean a thing by it, but all she really heard was that he still didn't consider her human. It cut way too close to the truth. How a slayer was just a human tainted with demon like vampires. She hadn't told them that darker part of her origin story ... and yet somehow it was like Dean already figured it out.

"But that's _good_ , okay? I mean, in _this_ case. Demons can't smoke in. You're golden." Dean clarified quickly, apparently realizing he hadn't exactly said the right thing ... and he still kinda wasn't.

Sam shook his head. "I don't think we can risk it anymore, Dean. What if they can possess her?"

Dean paused, thinking it over. He nodded. "You're right. We shouldn't take the chance." The older Winchester turned back to Buffy and looked her over deliberately. "We gotta get you tatted."

Buffy had lost track of this conversation a long time ago. "Whoa, wait. Slow down, Wonder Boys. She finally cut in, throwing out her arms. _"Tat?_ She said, staring incredulously.

In a way she swore was rehearsed, Sam and Dean simultaneously pulled down their shirts. Buffy, distracted a second by their exposed flesh, noticed two matching tattoos with a pentagram inside it. They quickly pulled it back.

"Anti-possession tattoo. It keeps the demons out of your body." Sam explained.

The slayer was growing increasingly uneasy, but tried to play it off. "I'm not really a fan of ink. It completely ruins my completion."

"Well, embrace it. As long as you're here, we can't risk you ending up on the opposite side of the chess board." Dean answered simply.

Buffy didn't reply. The dread that had been multiplying with every word had turned into an overwhelming dark cloud. She was terrified to say her next words. "Possession ...you mean jumping from their bodies to ours, right? Like a special power?"

Dean frowned slightly. "Demons don't have their own bodies outside of Hell. They take vessels like angels."

Buffy's world shattered in an instant. She couldn't move. She couldn't even breathe. All she could do was stand there numbly, drowning in the grisly revelation. She didn't need an answer for her silent question. It was right there, in that horrible moment that was both a second and an eternity ... and all she wanted to do was to run away from it.

 _T-the demons ... they were all human. They died ... with the demon. I-I killed_ —

"Didn't we tell you?" Sam asked in confusion.

Buffy couldn't see or hear Sam and Dean anymore. She glanced at the body on the ground and shock of seeing it finally opened her emotional floodgates. Horror, dismay, and the crippling, crippling guilt. Buffy wanted nothing more than it to be dream or a misunderstanding, like when Ted turned out to be robot or when she thought she killed Katrina four years ago. There was no way out now. _This_ was real.

"Hey. Buffy ..." Dean said, concern in his voice.

He took a step toward her, but the slayer backed away. She looked to her angel blade, the tip bloodied from when she grazed the cleaning lady demon in the brawl. Memories of the demons she killed with it were triggered. A fierce wave of anguish ripped through her. She shook her head and dropped the blade.

Buffy finally looked to Dean and Sam. She could see the bewilderment and worry in their eyes. She could only stare helplessly. One look at her face and they knew.

"Dean ..." Sam realized.

"A human ... died every time I killed a demon. I killed them." Buffy's voice was barely above a whisper.

A raucous, knocking suddenly banged on the door, making the brothers to jump. " _Hey!_ Is everything okay in there?" A gruff male voice called.

"We heard a lot of noise!" A feminine one added.

Dean gave a quick look at the dead body. "Okay, we gotta go." He declared, immediately springing to action with Sam to escape through the window.

Buffy still didn't move, too overwhelmed. Even louder banging sounded and another, more angry voice spoke up saying he was coming in. Dean stopped to grab her arm, pulling her. "Come on, let's go." He urged.

 _"Buffy_!" Sam called.

The pressure on the door was increasing. Suddenly the door started to splinter and Dean acted fast, slinging his arm around her waist and lifting her off her feet to carry her if he had to. Buffy finally snapped out of it and found her legs instead, feeling the hunter still guiding her with his arm around her shoulders.

The door was forced open. Three demons emerged, black-eyed and thirsty for blood. They scanned the thrashed motel room, but Buffy and the Winchester brothers had already crashed through the window.

The angel blade was left on the floor.

 _ **####**_

Buffy couldn't give you a thorough, clear-cut play-by play after that. She remembered broken glass, demons, Sam and Dean, and finally the Impala cutting through highways at breakneck speed. Buffy sat in the back next to her duffel, still shell-shocked. No words passed between her and brothers as they left St. Louis. She didn't know what to say.

Dean stopped when they were just a couple towns over, pulling over at the side of the road. It was a more rural area with a collection of tall trees on one side and a dying expanse of field on the other. Buffy meandered from the car as they got out, shaking her head. She couldn't even look at the brothers.

A long moment passed. The air was super-charged with tension.

"Uh, Buffy ...?" Dean was the only person brave enough to break the silence, sounding more uncertain than she had ever heard him.

The slayer paused, her back still turned. "All the demons we fought ... they were all humans possessed, weren't they? And you guys just went and killed them. Didn't even hesitate." Though her emotions were in complete disarray, her voice was chillingly even.

Dean and Sam said nothing. She didn't need to see their faces to know they didn't know what to say.

This was the hard part. Buffy drew in a shaky breath. "... So did I." She choked out.

It was true. She hadn't known demons took human vessels here, but it didn't matter. Just the fact she had killed these poor, possessed people with no hesitation or mercy ... how could she do that to someone? She had killed them all like they were monsters and lost no sleep for it. And what about the ones she just beat up? Could a human _always_ survive a slayer wailing?

Buffy finally turned to face them. "Y'know what I did, first thing I got here? I stabbed a demon through the heart with a pipe. Didn't do anything to the demon, but I bet the person inside felt _every_ bit of it." She told them in bitter self-loathing.

The blonde was inconsolable over that particular memory. She was supposed to be a slayer and protect people, not kill them like they're not even human. Is this how Faith felt when she killed the deputy mayor? That she killed someone like a monster?

Sam shook his head. "You didn't know. Anyone could've made that choice."

There was nothing but empathy to Sam, but it still was the spark that set the bomb off. Buffy exploded. " _You didn't tell me!_ Neither of you told there was a _human_ inside there!" She lashed out.

The brothers looked stung. "We're sorry." Dean said, intensely apologetic.

" _Sorry?"_ Buffy echoed. Fury and pain burned in her belly. "I killed _two_ more people! Maybe more! And all you have to say is _'Sorry'?_ " The slayer said, disgusted.

"We didn't think about it ... " The older Winchester admitted uncomfortably.

Buffy was appalled. "How could you _not_ think about it? Oh, yeah. There's an innocent person inside that demon, but that's not important or anything. Let's just get kill-y!" She answered, dripping bitter sarcasm.

Dean sighed wearily and ran a hand down his face. "Look, we-we didn't know it'd be an _issue_ , alright? The most important thing was getting you home in one piece. You said that yourself."

"That never meant I'd be okay letting possessed people die!" Buffy shouted.

She couldn't believe the cutthroat excuse Dean was giving her. The hunter's unemotional, ruthless face when he saved her earlier from the demon and then shoved the body off without a care flashed in her mind with a deeper kind of weight. Buffy always knew Dean was hardened ... but she never knew he was cold.

Sam gave her a look of deep regret. "We really are sorry. We just thought ..."

"What, that I wouldn't care?" The blonde said in disbelief, aghast.

This was incomprehensible to her. How could either of them think she'd _not_ care? Even Sam the sweetie hadn't had it cross his mind. Buffy bonded with these two so much already because she thought they were the same ... but they couldn't be more different. The truth was she still didn't really know them at all.

Dean looked at a loss with the situation. "Demons are demons! You keep messing around with monsters and lines get blurred! I mean, it's not like you haven't been down that road before." He argued easily. He caught the meaningful look on Buffy's face and shifted sharply. "You're kidding me. You _never_ killed a human to kill a monster?"

"Not even to save someone?" Even Sam couldn't believe it.

Buffy said nothing and just looked at them, conveying everything with her eyes.

"You've lived out _Hell's Paradise_ for ten years and never, not even once?" Dean said incredulously.

" _Dean."_ Sam warned, silencing him with a look.

Pain lanced through the blonde slayer. All the resentment and anger towards the brothers melted away. In that moment she was just incredibly sad. " ... Not anymore." She responded quietly, looking down. She was like Faith now. A slayer that killed an innocent. That reality hit her hard.

Sam and Dean stared at her. She didn't think she'd ever seen either of them look so lost.

"Buffy ... look, you didn't know. The other two people, that's on us, not on you. We didn't tell you." Sam began sympathetically. "But none of them just _died_. You killed them to save someone else. Plenty of others have died for less."

The slayer didn't respond, wracked with guilt. Not all of them "died for a good reason". She killed one of the demons chasing her on the way to the college out of nothing but self-preservation. Someone died so she could live. How wrong was that?

"What we do ... it ain't easy. You can't always keep it clean. But that doesn't mean you're not helping. Sometimes you gotta do a little bad to do a little good." Dean declared, gentle but honest.

The blonde paused, impassive even as agony jutted through her. " ... It doesn't matter. Someone is still dead." Buffy finally said.

The blonde didn't wait for a response and turned away, walking to the side of the road, not even bothering to look at them. Buffy latched onto a tree trunk with her hand, staring into the forest with a distant and drained gaze. Separate from everything.

All the times before she found a way out. She could never truly say she killed a human. That was Angel and Spike, Faith, Willow, Giles, even Andrew ... but not her. Out of all her bad decisions, that had been the one thing she still had. That was gone now. She was a murderer, for the first time in her life and she hated herself for it.

 _I always thought if I_ did _kill someone, it'd be to save the world. Not this_. Buffy thought, heart-broken. That was only time she would ever kill. She had accepted that responsibility as a slayer and this was where it took her? Killing three innocent people in something as small-scale as a fight? It was so _wrong._

She didn't understand how the Winchesters could do it. They killed off demon-possessed humans with ease and here she was, torn up and full of all the guilt her heavy conscience allowed her. Their rules weren't her rules ... and clearly that wasn't exclusive to their worlds, but their morals as well.

Dean and Sam, they were different. They had _Angel's_ philosophy. Killing for the greater good. And as much as she resented them for not telling her demons took vessels, she didn't blame them half as much as she blamed herself. She hadn't asked enough questions about them. She had been so obsessed in going home that she hadn't and that was her fault.

 _If I never came to this world, this never would've happened._ Buffy thought miserly. She missed her own universe now m _ore_ than she ever had before. Demons were more simple there. She could kill evil ones with no consequence. She knew shades of gray in her world ... but in this one it was all shades of gray.

It was funny. Angel and Spike had been all about mistakes and atoning for what they've done. Buffy had helped them work through their guilt, but she never truly understood it. Not like she did now. It took their deaths and an alternate universe, but now she did ... and it was unbearable. She wished so much they were here, either of them. She didn't know how she was going to deal with this alone.

Distress, homesickness, and self-loathing engulfed her. She wanted it to go away, but it throbbed on. Buffy's lip quivered, her eyes watering as she tried to not cry. Everything, all of this ... it just was too much. After everything else she screwed up ... why was it that no matter _what_ she did, someone died?

Maybe a part of her knew deep down Sam and Dean had a point. Sometimes there was no other way. You had to kill someone to save someone and didn't have a choice in the big picture. She _understood_ that ... but Buffy still couldn't see how she was any different now from the monsters she killed.

* * *

~~Dean~~

There were a lot of things Dean could handle. Angels, demons, vampires, Leviathans, even dying himself. When it came to hunting, he always knew what to do. He had faced the worst of the worst ... and yet watching a tiny blonde thing suddenly break down and fall apart over something he accepted a long time ago froze him. He didn't know what to do with _that_.

Buffy was leaning against a tree, sitting on the ground holding her knees and staring vacantly ahead. Him and Sam stood off by the Impala, observing her from a distance. She still hadn't even glanced at them and Dean couldn't deny that was starting to sting.

The hunter felt a little ashamed. He hadn't thought at all how she'd feel killing someone possessed. His biggest concern had just been keeping her alive long enough to make it home since _Crowley_ was after her. Dean called it when he said she was a girl scout. Maybe he should've known better all along.

"We screwed up, Dean. We should've told her." Sam said.

Mixed feelings infected him. They should've told her but wasn't she overreacting? So Buffy killed a few people. At least she had a reason. Him and his brother killed. Not that they liked doing it, but it was for a good cause. He felt bad on one hand and the other he didn't get it. Dean was just so damn confused by his own feelings.

"All this over a few possessions ..." The older Winchester began with his eyes on Buffy. He shook his head wearily. "I gotta say it. I don't know how she made it this long." He still couldn't believe this chick hadn't had to kill before now. Sure, she was young but she's been in how many apocalypses?

Sam was sympathetic. "She's got heart. In a life like this, it's easy to lose that."

"Yeah, but you can't have a _bleeding_ one." Dean countered, giving him a skeptical look. He looked back at Buffy. "I mean, look at her. She's like a ... a sheep in wolf's clothing." He summed up awkwardly.

"She's a good person, Dean." Sam said indignantly. "A _lot_ better than us apparently. Compared to her, we're practically serial killers."

Dean gave his brother a long look. "We're hunters, not serial killers. There's a difference." He stated in a firm tone.

"Is _there,_ Dean? I mean, how many people have we killed, just starting with the demons?" Sam openly challenged.

A nerve was struck in the older hunter. "We kill for a _reason_ , Sam! Wipe out the monster and save who we can! Look, we're fighting a frickin' war with these things. What else are we supposed to do?" Dean argued angrily. "It's the _job_. And what Girl Scout did, that ain't any different."

A tense moment passed. Dean glared at his brother, trying to ignore how much his words bothered him.

"And ... what, Dean? That just excuses the fact we didn't tell Buffy demons _possess_ people?" The younger hunter prompted incredulously.

"No. We should've told her." Dean admitted. He glanced back at Buffy, feeling her ramphant unhappiness from here.

The Winchester softened. He had been right all along. Buffy was much softer than she acted and that wasn't a good thing for a hunter. It just got in the way ... and got you hurt.

"If Buffy's gonna be blaming herself over something like this, then maybe she oughta look for a different line of work. The life ... it gets to her too much." He couldn't but say. Dean still didn't understand why she was so upset, but felt bad nonetheless.

Sam was weary. "Or maybe the life got to _us_ too much, Dean."

Dean looked sharply at his brother, meeting his meaningful face. Weariness of his own seeped through and he looked down, having nothing to say.

"It's just ... if this shakes her up so much, I don't know why she's still hunting." The older hunter finished, deflated.

His little brother paused, watching Buffy with a distant and thoughtful look in his eyes. " ... Maybe she doesn't think she has a choice." Sam said sympathetically.

The older Winchester didn't respond, affected by that. He remembered her story of starting of as The Chosen One where she was forced into this life at fifteen, stopping apocalypses, and now Command Central of all these girls ... and he realized she didn't consider a single one of those things a choice. Hunting wasn't a choice to her. She was just resigned to it. Funnily enough ... Dean could relate.

Sam's sigh distracted him out of his musings. "I think one of us needs to go talk to her."

Dean mentally flinched. He had no frigging clue what to say to Buffy or if he even had the right to say anything after what happened and he could see from the reluctance in Sam's eyes he felt the same. But he knew they had to do something to snap her out of the funk. At least enough to be on the move again.

Sam and Dean did an intense stare-down, silently challenging the other to be the one to go over. Both stubbornly stood their ground. A stalemate.

Sam broke first. With another sigh and a uncertain expression, he went to go. Dean, however, changed his mind at the last second and pushed him back to take over instead. He gave him a look and his little brother let him, but had a frown on his face.

"Go easy on her, Dean." Sam warned as Dean was walking away, worry in his voice.

Dean approached Buffy, feeling more and more unconfident as he came closer.

The blonde slayer spared the briefest glance as he stopped in front of her, then immediately looked away. He sensed the resentment behind the gesture and it just made Dean feel worse. He stood there unsurely, having even less of an idea of what to say than before.

Maybe he should've let Sam do this part after all. His brother was better at the sensitive, heart-to-heart talk. Dean never knew what to do with those.

Feeling compelled, he took his best shot. "... I know you're pretty pissed. We didn't tell you about the demons. We didn't think it through and that was wrong."

A moment passed. Buffy still didn't acknowledge him. Didn't even budge.

Dean was a little discouraged. _Okay, so try harder._ The hunter repressed a sigh and crouched down. "Y'know ... when you've been doing this as long as Sammy and I have, you stop asking the important things. I guess we just thought you were the same." He admitted.

Another long beat. The blonde was finally looking at him, impassive. After another second, she lowered her head with a heavy sigh. "I ... _understand_ what you said earlier. The job isn't easy to keep clean. Just because I'm a stickler didn't mean you guys were. I should've asked too." She responded grudgingly.

"Well, now we know." The Winchester said, slipping in a bit of humor.

Another moment of tense, tentative silence. Pain was cracking through Buffy's stoic mask. "I killed someone. Three people are dead because of me." Her eyes were stamped with anguish.

Dean shrugged. "Hey, you didn't know. That's our bad." When the slayer didn't respond, he turned more earnest. "It's not your fault, it's ours. Blame us."

Buffy looked at him tiredly, then away again and down again. Shame burned in her eyes. " ... I always said being a slayer didn't make you a killer."

The raw disillusionment in her voice ignited something in the hunter. Dean stared at her sympathetically. "You're not a killer. Killers ... They don't give a rat's ass about anyone. That is not you." He told her meaningfully. At the slayer's unconvinced look, he took a firmer approach. "You were doing your job. You can't always keep it cut and dried."

Mixed feelings spread across Buffy's face. She sighed. "I _know._ Look, I ... I _get_ how you can see it that way, I do. But I _can't._ " She stated firmly. She gave him a intense look. "I'm The Slayer. I need to be _better_ than that."

Dean paused, recognizing how seriously she took her job. The high standards to which she held herself too astounded him just as much as he sympathized. "Well, you're already better than a lot of people. Better than me, that's for sure. How about we hang it up there and call it a day?" He reasoned with ease.

Buffy didn't react, then gave the faintest twinge of a amused smile. She looked at him, world-weary but this time somewhat grateful.

"He's right." Dean and Buffy turned, standing up as they saw Sam coming. "You shouldn't be so hard on yourself." He stopped in front of them and looked down uncomfortably. "This is all pretty much our fault."

Again, Buffy didn't reply and it was at that point Dean realized there was no truly getting through to her. The older hunter exchanged a resigned look with his brother. Repressing a sigh, he turned back to her. " ... We still have to drive to Lincoln Springs to, uh, check out the next case." He said carefully.

He presented it like a question and Buffy got it. Her expression darkened. "... I think you two strong, strapping men can handle this one without me." She deadpanned. At Dean and Sam's looks, she stood her ground and met it solemnly. "I can't."

Maybe he had expected it, but hearing it out loud was different. Nonetheless Dean covered his surprise and raised no objections.

Sam nodded. "Of course."

"We'll drop you off somewhere. Find you a different—" Dean began.

"I'll take a bus." Buffy responded flatly, cutting him off.

That Dean hadn't expected. He stared at her hard with narrowed eyes. The blonde slayer stared back stonily and something in her eyes made him not ask questions. The Winchester forced himself to back off and gave her a curt nod.

Buffy wordlessly went to get her duffel bag out of the backseat. She turned back them as she was slinging it over her shoulder, surveying them with a expression Dean couldn't read. "If you two need any real help, call me."

The Winchesters watched as she started to go, picking her way down the edge of the side of the road.

They stood there in silence as she left. Dean didn't know what to make of it. Maybe she was still angry for not telling them about demon possession. Maybe she just needed to get away. Maybe it was both. No matter which one it was, he didn't blame it.

"She just needs some time." Sam said softly.

Dean wasn't so sure. He might not have known Buffy long, but he spent enough time with her to to know if she was refusing a hunt for any reason other than finding a way home ... then this might have cut the deepest of all.

The older Winchester stared ahead skeptically. "Yeah. Time."

 _ **####**_

Lincoln Springs, Missouri went weird fast. Dean and Sam went to go talk to the most recent victim's husband. Apparently the woman Annie had been acting strange, muttering about an "orchard" and going out at night digging, coming back with bags of dirt. She was caught on the phone talking to someone and their eyes turned black. The eerie implications of it awakened the hunter's unease quick.

"So, Crowley's back crypt-diving and his demons are suddenly getting ganked." Dean summed up as they were walking back to car. "Remind us of anything?"

Sam nodded gravely. "It's just like what happened two months ago in Novi, Michigan."

"Labolas, head of the demon witch hunt. Wish we could thank him." He responded a bit dryly, expression grim.

"This is bad, Dean." His brother began as they reached the Impala, worry in his voice. "If Labolas gets his hands on whatever's in Lucfier's crypts, then everything's just gonna get that much worse. We already can't kill him."

Dean shared the apprehension. "Well, we'll just have to find the crypt first. Take the _Sankara Stones_ or the _Ark of the Covenant_ or whatever the hell's in there. We still got a trail. Wendy Rice." He made it sound a lot more simple than he really felt over it.

"Right. She was the last person to talk to Ann." Sam acknowledged. "I just hope she has something."

The brothers headed out next to her house. Sam made a series of calls as Dean drove, checking in with the other murders in Indiana and Illinois to see if they matched. All had similar characteristics with the victims acting weird. None saw any with black eyes, but black smoke was mentioned and that was all they needed.

"So it's official. Crowley's out for the crypts and Labolas might on the trail." Sam said as he hung up, resignation in his voice.

Tension magnified in Dean, but he kept his eyes on road and his tone even. "Funny how Cas isn't here. He was the one supposed to be covering Labolas' movements." He commented.

"You were the one who told Buffy we didn't need Cas." Sam reminded him.

That grated with Dean in more ways than one. "He gives her the creeps. What was I supposed to say?" He grumbled. He gave a frustrated sigh. "Cas knows more about Labolas than us, okay? He knew about the visions and who knows what else. I'd just feel better if I had an eye on him." He explained brusquely.

"No, I get what you mean." Sam agreed. "At least when he's here, you know what to expect."

"Talking to him lately, I-I feel like I'm doing cipher."

He had a suspicion all along Cas was hiding something. A part of him had still been trying to tell himself it was just his trust issues or Purgatory side-effects, but when Buffy came forward about doubting the angel that was when he realized. None of this was in his head.

Dean sighed. "It's just ... his ass should be here with us, that's all. It is _not_ the time to be MIA."

"You're telling me." Sam scoffed. He glanced out the window, apprehensive again. "This could get pretty ugly, Dean. If Labolas really is somewhere in this town ... _Any_ kind of back-up would be nice."

The older Winchester didn't like that phrasing. He spared his brother the briefest of suspicious looks before putting his eyes back on the road. "We're not sending in Buffy." Dean refused in an adamant tone.

Sam sighed. "I know."

Dean couldn't tell he was resigned to the decision or agreeing with him, but didn't much care either way. "We're not going to drag her into all this. If it's Labolas or Crowley or whatever, _we'll_ deal with it. We've handled plenty of crazy before _she_ came in our orbit." He stated resolutely.

They arrived at the next stop and met Wendy Rice, a nervous but enthusiastic woman doing a dissertation about the history of Lincoln Springs. She explained her connection to possessed Ann, revealing she had been asking questions about an orchard that used to exist. She even pulled out a map of the exact place that would lead the brothers right to the crypts.

Things took a turn for the worse though when three demons arrived at Wendy's doorstep. Dean and Sam were thrown into a fight and in the chaos, one of them stole the map and ran out the door. Dean was close to killing one, but it jumped to the body of Wendy Rice. The other demon was long gone when all of sudden Castiel appeared, restraining the newly possessed Wendy by her hair-curlers. The brothers stared in shock.

" _Cas_?" Dean said in surprise.

Castiel pulled the demon hard by the hair, dragging her into the kitchen without preamble.

Sam and Dean sat down on the couch, too stunned to react and catching their breath from the fight. They looked at each other uncertainly.

Dean was even less sure what to think when Cas came back, more stoic than usual. "The other demon escaped. I bound the one I caught in a devil's trap. I'm gonna interrogate it now." He said, all business as he was already starting to go.

 _That's it?_ Dean thought in disbelief. A whole of month not seeing them, ditching their calls and he wasn't even bothering to explain himself?

Sam too was peeved. "Wait a second, Cas." The angel halted, his back stiffening. "How about you answer some questions first? Like, where the hell have you been?" His brother asked incredulously.

"You got all our calls, right?" Dean queried.

Castiel stood there, his discomfort obvious. Finally he sighed and turned around. "Yes, I did. But that's not why I'm here." He responded, an annoyed edge to his voice as he sat in the armchair across from them. "I've been following trails of demons to find the crypts."

"So it's been you killing demons." Dean couldn't help but notice a bit of relief in Sam's voice.

"Some of them, yes. Others were the work of angels from other factions." Cas clarified.

" _Angels?_ " Sam echoed.

Dean too was surprised. "So _that's_ what this whole thing has been about? _The Godfather,_ the Heaven Hell cut?"

"Where are the angels now?" His younger brother pressed.

Castiel's expression darkened. "Dead." He responded curtly. "I caught a trail of the Labolas shortly after this started. He's been tracking Crowley's demons as I have. He killed the angels after they killed the last group. I never arrived in time to catch him."

Dean looked away, grimacing as a surge of unease whipped through him. "So Labolas. He hot on the trail here?"

"He's constantly been two steps ahead of me. Most likely he is already somewhere close by." The fallen angel replied matter-of-factly.

The older hunter nodded, grim and weary as he let it sink in.

"What did you mean by last group? There was more?" Sam brother queried.

Dean started at that and shot Castiel a wary look. His best friend's face was impassive. "The conflicts over the crypts have been going on for the past month all over the Midwest. North Dakota, Nebraska, Minnesota. Crowley's demons have been issued out and slain, either by Labolas, the angels, or myself. It's been pure unrest."

The Winchesters stared at him, overwhelmed by the information. Sam made an incredulous noise. "And you're just telling us this _now?_ A month later?"

Dean was just as outraged. "You've been doing all this without us?"

"I've been _trying_ to help." Cas answered in exasperation.

The older Winchester wasn't about to take that. All his private frustrations started to boil over. "Yeah, let's talk about _help._ Let's talk about Labolas' visions. Thanks for telling us about that by the way." He responded, scathing.

Castiel froze. He sighed and lowered her head. "I assume Buffy told you everything about Labolas' precognition."

"Well, at least _someone_ did." Dean remarked, an edge to his voice.

Castiel paused, returning his accusing gaze stoically. "I miscalculated."

"That's new." Sam deadpanned.

" ... The search for the crypts have been chaotic. The only comfort is that it seems neither Labolas or Crowley have found what they're looking for." Cas diverted back to topic with ease.

"And what the hell _are_ they looking are? Did you find out about that out too?" Dean asked warily.

The fallen angel hesitated, his gaze distant a second. "They're, uh, searching for a parchment that would allow them to decipher Crowley's half of the Demon Tablet."

"A demonic decoder ring? In Crowley or Labs' hands. That's ... that's awesome." The older Winchester responded wryly, uncomfortable and annoyed. He knew they should've found that damn thing when they had a chance.

Castiel sat forward, pensive. "The crypts' locations were all lost over time. Only those closest to Lucifer knew their whereabouts."

"That explains why Labolas has been tracking them on his own, but what about Crowley?" Sam queried.

"I don't know. But somehow he's been possessing locals who he may have special knowledge." The fallen angel informed.

Sam nodded thoughtfully. Suddenly he frowned. "Wait. Cas. If Labolas was Lucifer's general, then shouldn't he already know which crypt's the parchment's in?" He wondered, unease spreading across his face.

"One would think. Fortunately it doesn't seem he does." The trench-coated angel stood up, fixing them with a grave and meaningful expression. "But time's of the essence. It won't be too long before he finds it."

Dean had stayed quiet, busy trying to read Cas's motives. He just couldn't figure out what the hell he was hiding. Their conversation with Buffy about Cas reared it's ugly head again and he started wondering. Just how much of what she said had a point?

"I'm going to interrogate the strange-haired demon. Hopefully she'll be more knowledgeable." Castiel stated curtly, making another move to leave.

Dean stood up. "Cas, wait." He said as the angel was at the door, walking over to him. Castiel stopped yet again, immensely frustrated. "Speaking of Labolas ... you remember the last time you ran into him? At the college?"

The angel stood, still not looking directly at him. He sighed. "Of course."

"Well, I was thinking. You heard rumors about the angel scythe being around that place before. Didn't even already give the place the good old celestial sweep." The older Winchester kept his tone carefully even. "And then you finally go, take Buffy for the ride, get Dr. DoEvil."

Castiel glanced at him, weighing him with an intense but unreadable gaze. "I had no idea Labolas was there."

Dean eyed him. "Yeah, sure. Of course." He said cautiously, not sure what to make of it. Truly not wanting to but knowing he needed to, he pushed on. "But the thing is, you didn't check first if the whole trip was an Al Capone's vault or not. I mean, we _all_ know how OCD you angels are about your weapons."

"What are trying to say, Dean?" Cas said, a frosty edge to his voice.

The older Winchester hesitated. Resisting the urge to back out, he looked him in the eye. "Did you know what was waiting down there, Cas?"

The fallen angel paused and faced him fully. His expression was hard. "I was as unaware of Labolas and the scythe being elsewhere as much as the rest of you." He stated firmly. "I had no intention of causing harm to her, Dean."

The last part sounded honest enough that Dean believed him. Still, the rest of it didn't quite fit together. Something more than what it seemed took place that day he and Buffy encountered Labolas in the college. Cas was lying again ... somehow. He just wished he knew how or why.

"Y'know ... Buffy's got someplace she really needs to be. We're _helping_ her. She's been going through a lot." Dean said, layered with underlying meaning as he gave Cas a look.

Castiel appeared uncomfortable. He looked away in exasperation and sighed. "There are more important matters than returning Buffy to her world." He told him sternly.

"You made her a _promise._ " Dean protested.

Cas raised his head, his look hard and uncompromising. "I'm doing what _needs_ to be done, Dean. Not be a bleeding heart for a lost girl." He declared meaningfully. The angel's firm stare swept over the brothers before he finally pushed through the door and disappeared in the kitchen.

Dean stood there, completely flabbergasted. He scoffed. "Well, he puts the 'ass' in Cas." He deadpanned.

Sam didn't look like he knew what to think. "He's definitely off."

" _Off?_ The older hunter said incredulously. "He hasn't been right since he got of Purgatory. We still don't know how he got out of there. And what, now he's dragging Buffy into the crap he's dragging us in?" He went on with outrage, particularly pissed about the last part.

Sam was frowning. "I wonder what's going on with him."

"He's _lying_ to us. _That's_ what's going on." Dean answered sharply. He looked back at the door where Cas had went. "Who knows what he's been playing close to chest."

"You know, I can hear you both." Castiel's slightly annoyed voice startled them, floating from the kitchen door. "I _am_ a celestial being."

Dean and Sam clammed up, exchanging a self-conscious and tense look. Ignoring his high stress level at the moment, Dean joined his brother as they went to help the angel interrogate the demon.

'Help' ended up being a much looser term than either of them thought. Castiel completely dominated the interrogation, stabbing and torturing the demon with a sudden brutal efficiency that surprised even Dean. He wasn't given too much time to read into it when the demon quickly broke and revealed they were holding a demon hostage who knew were all the crypts were.

"Where's the hostage?" Castiel demanded.

The demon was shaking, staring painfully at the angel blade Cas had embedded in her hand. She shook her head. "She's not here." Immediately he pulled out the blade and stabbed her again, earning him a shriek. "She's _not!_ Crowley's keeping her in some abandoned shed in Massachusetts. I don't know which town." She insisted desperately. "She told us a few locations for the crypt in Lincoln Springs, but she won't tell us which one's the right one."

Sam and Dean looked at each other pensively. They both knew they couldn't retrieve the hostage if they didn't know the town, not even Cas. There was too much going on here.

Castiel seemed to know it too. He wrenched the angel blade out of her, causing the demon to gasp and wince. "What were the locations?"

"An old factory, an abandoned building, and another one's a warehouse. W-We don't know exactly where they are." Possessed Wendy informed tightly, the angry but fearful look in her eye saying it was true.

Annoyance bubbled in Dean at the lack of address, but he couldn't expect much else. It explained the demon running around like chickens with their heads cut off. At least that left Crowley's men as compromised as them. Labolas was the real unease trigger. He probably knew _exactly_ where the crypt was.

"So one of those has the crypt with the parchment in it?" Sam asked.

The demon gave him a sour look. "What parchment?!"

Tired of the sidelines, Dean impatiently stepped forward. " _Hey!"_ He shouted, getting in her face as he slammed his hands on the table. "Think he's the only bad cop in this room? Stop _lying!_ We know what you're really looking for." The hunter intimidated.

Possessed Wendy only scowled deeper. " _No,_ I'm telling you, we're looking for—"

Castiel suddenly stabbed her straight through the chest, expression entirely blank. Dean doubled back in shock as orange light flickered and she let out a dying gasp. _What the ...?!_ He thought, stunned speechless.

" _Cas!"_ Sam rushed forward, alarmed. "What the hell was that?!"

The angel glanced over. "She told us what we needed." He justified adamantly.

"No, she didn't!" His brother said, outraged. "You can't just—"

"Where is Buffy?" Castiel asked suddenly, curtly cutting him as off he looked between them.

" _What?"_ Sam responded incredulously.

Dean couldn't be more confused. "The hell does she got to do with this?" He gestured to demon's body. "Cas, you just frickin—"

"We need her. Bring her here immediately." Cas ordered.

He was giving orders now? _"No."_ Dean said defiantly, projecting his own authority. "We can handle this on our own."

"This is _too important,_ Dean. Her help might very well be essential." The fallen angel insisted, walking up to him with a impatient look.

 _Oh, so it's only okay if_ she's _the one helping._ The hunter thought with a touch of scorn, disapproving. "We're not dragging her _into this,_ Cas! She's kinda been going through a rough time." Dean argued indignantly.

Castiel hardened. "Labolas might be in this town this very moment. We'll stand a better chance of survival in a fight if she's with us."

That gave Dean pause. Reluctantly he could the point. It was easy for _him_ to say though. He wasn't the one who saw her after she found out she killed those demon-possessed victims. He wasn't sure if she even had the mental capacity right now to jump back in the fray with them. Why the hell would he wanna find out?

As Dean wrestled with the decision, Cas wasn't waiting for him. "Contact her. I'll start scouring any similar locations to what the demon described."

"Cas—" Dean started sharply.

Castiel whipped around. "I started all of this without you because I didn't want anything to slow me down. We have to find the crypt now." He declared in finality, meaning on his face.

Just like that, there was a rustle of wings and he disappeared. Sam and Dean both shouted his name, but he was gone. They were left alone and frustrated.

Dean shook his head, in all kinds of negative feelings. " _D_ _amnit!_ _Cas!"_

"There's definitely something wrong with him." Sam stated with certainty, expression hard and displeased.

"You _think_?"

"But he was right, Dean. If Labolas has been tracking angels and demons to get the crypts, we shouldn't be going in without full back-up."

"What, you mean listen to the asshat? Go get Buffy?" Even though Dean knew they should, he still had reservations.

Sam shrugged. "She _said_ she'd help if we really needed it." He reminded him. At his older brother's still-cynical look, he continued. "Look, I don't want to involve her in this as much as you, Dean, but we don't really have a choice."

"And we can just trust Cas with Buffy?" The older hunter said dubiously. "She already doesn't think he's out to help send her back. And after all that, I can't say I blame her."

"Don't trust Cas. Trust what we know." Sam insisted. "We _know_ Labolas wants the same thing Crowley does."

As much as he didn't like it, no one did the voice of reason better than Sammy. Dean was pissed off, confused, and scared as hell over Cas and most definitely did _not_ want Buffy to be a part of this crapfest, but ignoring _all that_...he got out his phone and called her.

The least he could hope for was that nothing got any worse.

* * *

~~Castiel~~

Castiel was deep inside an abandoned warehouse, investigating every single scaffolding, debris, and cracks in the wall or floor for anything that might allude to a crypt. There wasn't any sign of Labolas or the other demons here, but the fallen angel didn't lower his guard. He knew this town was completely littered with demons.

Even immersed in his work, Cas still found himself distracted from time to time. His encounter with the brothers weighed on him heavily. It was so plain neither one trusted him, even Dean and the thinly veiled accusations he had no way of explaining cut most of all. He wasn't sure what to do with the whole situation.

Naomi had insisted he keep the Angel Tablet a secret from Sam and Dean. She had forced him to lie and then forced him to kill the demon while everything else that came out of his mouth was nothing but half-truths. She didn't trust them and Castiel had partly come to believe her. This was _angel_ business. He knew that now.

Ignoring Naomi's indoctrination ... Cas felt he was doing the right thing. He felt justified, that there was no other choice. He only wished there was a way he could let Sam and Dean see that too.

Castiel's investigation of the warehouse the rest of the way went with little success. It wasn't long before he realized there was no crypt here. As he went downstairs and was ready to move on to the next, the fallen angel stopped half-way out in with shock ... and just a little unease.

Two angels were standing right in front of him. One had a male vessel in a blue-and-white suit with thick dark brown hair and side-burns. The other was a female vessel with shoulder-length sharply cut black hair dressed in a gray-and-white suit. The look of disdain and coldness in their eyes were the same.

"Hello, Castiel." The male addressed icily.

The trench-coated angel was nervous. "Sephion." He greeted back. His gaze swept over them, resting on the female angel and giving her a nod. "Prudence."

"You shouldn't be here, Castiel." Prudence stated forthright, perceptive disgust in her voice.

Not expecting a different reaction, Cas tried to dig himself out of the hole he unexpectedly fell in. "I don't—"

"There's no use lying, Castiel. We know what you've been searching for the Angel Tablet." Sephion cut him off curtly. "We'll give you one warning and one warning only. Stop now."

Prudence nodded. "The conflict between us and the demons is none of your business."

Cas stared at them, helplessness and frustration jutting through him. "I'm trying to protect Heaven. If the Angel Tablet falls into the wrong hands—"

"And you're the _right_ hands, Castiel?" Prudence responded incredulously. "You're the last angel that should ever secure the tablet."

Sephion's green gaze was hard. "End this now or we will we."

More frustration rose in Castiel. "You know about Labolas' return. You know what he's become! He'll destroy everything. If finds the Angel Tablet, nothing will be more catastrophic." The trench-angel argued urgently. "We should be working together. Just let me help."

For the most fleeting of moments, Cas thought he had almost gotten through to them. Prudence and Sephion exchanged an almost worried look. Too soon though they were back to their coldness and piercing resentment.

"Labolas is a threat ... but he's for Heaven to deal with. You're not part of Heaven anymore, Castiel." Sephion responded flatly.

The disownment hurt and shamed Cas more than he could say, but he firmly stood his ground. "I can still give my services."

"Last chance, Castiel. Forget about the Angel Tablet. Leave this to the _true_ angels." Prudence warned.

Dismay flooded over Cas. He stared at them wearily. In that moment, he knew their grudge ran deeper than any reason he could give. He repressed a sigh. "You know I can't."

There was a glint of silver. Castiel watched with a sinking feeling as his brethren flashed their angel blades as one, ready to attack. There was not a hint of reluctance and uncertainty in their eyes. Only hatred.

In that briefest moment of Cas's languishing look and the opposing angels at the ready, he felt his mind pulled back drastically into Naomi's white room.

"Kill them." The red-headed angel said without hesitation.

Castiel was shocked and a bit horrified, not at all expecting her of all people to say. "What?"

"They're in the way." Naomi justified, her blue gaze hard and stern. " _Do it,_ Castiel!"

Naomi's shouting order was still echoing in his head as he pulled back to reality, dodging Sephion's blade and blocking Prudence's with his own. The female angel punched him hard in the face, drawing blood and sending him reeling. Sephion came back with the blade which Cas barely dodged. A collition of punches came at him on both sides.

Forcing himself to get serious, Cas kicked the Sephion away enough to unbalance him. Prudence was there to strike, but Cas blocked her arm and rammed his angel blade through her chest. A bright while flashed and a violent scream ripped the air. The fallen angel ripped it out, not missing a beat as he charged Sephion and after a few more blows were exchanged, he pierced him. Another flash and yell before falling into eerie silence.

Castiel stood overlooking their bodies, his face bloodied and bruised as he panted heavily. Despite everything, resignation and guilt and even a bit of sadness was the only thing present as he stared at his dead siblings. He hadn't wanted anymore angels to die. _I'm sorry._ He told them silently.

Suddenly the fallen angel was back in Naomi's white room. The female angel was staring at him solemnly. "It had to be done, Castiel."

The trench-coated angel looked away. "I want to protect Heaven, not slaughter any more of our brethren." Cas remarked wearily, unable to staunch his shame.

"You _are_ protecting it, Castiel." Naomi insisted evenly. "The other angels don't understand. They don't see the good we're trying to do ... and we can't let them get in the way of that. Sometimes certain sacrifices are necessary. Kill the few to save the many." She reasoned.

 _I'm tired of killing._ Cas couldn't help but think, beyond weary. Maybe he recognized the point Naomi had, but after everything he's destroyed in Heaven and the countless lives of angels he took in the process any angel death by his own hands made him ill. He hoped to leave that behind for good with the Leviathans.

Whether or not Naomi detected his misgivings, she didn't show it. "Continue the search for the Angel Tablet. Keep Dean ... and anyone else away from it." She ordered with particular meaning.

Just like that, Cas found himself back in tune with reality and staring at the angel's bodies in the warehouse. That spark of guilt was stirred up again, but the fallen angel squashed it down. Spurned by his mission and Naomi's order, Cas walked past them and went back to work.

The fallen angel's quest for the crypt was relentless. He had gone through seven more warehouses, three factories, and at least twenty-three abandoned buildings all in the course of a day, making full use of his angelic speed and stamina. He detected sulfur and other signs of demons in some areas, but there had been no crypt there.

Castiel was at another warehouse further downtown, finished with his mandatory sweep of the area for anything else demon or angelic. The fallen angel had just made it inside when he slowly paused, his tension reaching it's peak as he turned even more solemn. "I know you're there. Come out."

There was another lengthy pause. "You're not a hard angel to track, Castiel." A smooth voice began. Cas turned to see a man emerge standing in the entrance. He was wearing a suit with balding, thinning red hair and sideburns. "I'd expected more, considering all of Heaven wants your head on a pike."

Castiel recognized him on the spot. "Zerith."

"You're setting yourself up for trouble going between the Angel Tablet and the factions." Zerith carried on casually. His expression suddenly hardened. "But I'm sure Sephion and Prudence already taught you that."

Cas didn't miss the accusing edge to his voice. _So he knows._ "I didn't want to hurt them."

"And yet two more angels were added to your death count." Zerith pointed out. "I can't help but marvel at how you would dare show your face again after all that."

Not too long ago Cas had thought the same thing. "I am sorry." He began.

Zerith scoffed. "You're _always_ sorry, Castiel. And every time, you find another thing to be sorry for." He responded condescendingly, walking over to him. "Me and none of the other angels will allow the Angel Tablet to your next one. We can't leave this to a _traitor_."

Cas met him. "I can't undo the damage I've done ... but I still want to help Heaven. I want to make amends." The trench-coated answered with conviction.

"You don't _amend,_ Castiel. You _destroy_." Zerith answered in cutting matter-of-factness. He pulled out his angel blade.

Sheer resignation funneled through the fallen angel as he stared at the blade. " ... You're a reasonable angel, Zerith. Labolas is free. He killed the angels searching for these crypts. Deep down you know you're not any position to refuse my help." Cas appealed, needing to try one more time.

Zerith paused at that very briefly, but his expression stayed controlled. "There's nothing you could offer that won't make things worse. We already learned our lesson."

For the second time over two days, Castiel was forced to fight. Blades clashed and blows were exchanged through the warehouse. The fallen angel found an opening and dodged the blade, punching him in the stomach and then a few times hard in the face. The last punch send Zerith to the floor and Cas automatically came down with his weapon.

Then Castiel paused. He stared down at expressionless Zerith, the angel blade still poised to strike. Naomi's earlier words about certain sacrifices being necessary surged through his brain. In that very last scrap of his mind that still belonged to him, Cas instead punched him hard across the face and kicked him away. Zerith rolled across the floor. The fallen angel then lit a match, tossing it to the ground.

A fiery ring formed around the other angel. Zerith was on his feet now, looking at it in dim surprise.

"I expected more angels to track me down. I had plenty of time to prepare." Castiel answered his silent question. He had purposely lured Zerith to holy oil as they fought.

Zerith said nothing at first and looked at him in distinct displeasure. "... This won't keep me here forever, Castiel. I won't let you get away with the Angel Tablet." He stated point-blank, giving him a look filled with significance.

Castiel paused. For a second, he nearly reconsidered sparing him. But then the other two angels he killed came back to him and how empty he felt had afterwards. Even with Naomi in his mind, he held on to that.

"I will _not_ spill anymore needless bloodshed." He declared in unerring finality, glaring at him meaningfully.

Cas held his stern glare on him. Quickly he turned and walked away to continue investigating the warehouse, his coat billowing out behind.

* * *

~~Buffy~~

Buffy hung back slightly, watching Sam and Dean clustered around two dead bodies in a remote abandoned warehouse. Dean was crouched down and studying them both pretty critically, particularly the impalement wound. " ... Well, it looks like Cas has been here." The hunter assessed plainly.

"I don't think this place is the crypt." Sam voiced, sounding just as certain but disappointed.

When Dean called Buffy for help as she sat alone and depressed in another shifty Missouri motel almost a week since they last saw each other, she couldn't have been more reluctant. It involved demons and she _couldn't_ do demons. She wasn't even sure if she could be around the brothers yet. Not so soon after _that._ Buffy wasn't ready. She felt it then and she still felt now ... but she knew Dean wouldn't call without a good reason. A fight over a crypt containing something that could decipher the Demon Tablet without Kevin and Labolas more than constituted as _"reason"._ She hadn't had the heart to refuse.

"There's no sulfur. Regular or Lab goo." Buffy observed.

"That's because these aren't demons. They're angels." Sam informed. "None of them are exactly big fans of Cas."

The blonde slayer took this in. Angels had vessels too and Castiel just murdered them? "Angels fresh out of men's formalwear ... oh." Buffy quipped very weakly, struggling to not get swept up in how overwhelmed she was. Innocents were still dying with the bad guys.

Buffy knew the severity of the situation. Damnit she knew. Details like that didn't matter in the grand scheme of this mission ... but it mattered to _her_. It grated with her morality even as she went along with it and _clearly_ didn't grate with the brothers. She was the odd one out and it hurt her brain to even comprehend it.

Dean and Sam eyed her, their looks saying they knew what she was thinking. The Winchesters exchanged a resigned and faintly helpless look before Dean stood up. "Demons might still show up here. We gotta hurry and hit the next." He stated, avoiding their eyes.

"I looked through all the oldest buildings and town archives. There's another warehouse close by that might be it." Sam suggested.

Buffy, trying to reclaim her famous _"business"_ attitude, nodded. "We already crossed off a lot of list. We'll find the crypt before they do."

They were fortunate it was a smaller town. It wasn't too much longer before they arrived at the next stop. This one was in a more secluded part of downtown with few people. Buffy remained in a constant cord of tension, possibly more so than the brothers as they made their way through the street. She found herself praying they didn't run into any demons or angels. She didn't want to be forced to kill yet again.

Buffy and the brothers emerged cautiously in the rather large warehouse. None of them got very far when they sensed something. The blonde slayer looked over and got a momentary jolt. A man further down close by the wall on the side of the entrance, surrounded and trapped in a ring of fire.

"Demon?" Buffy asked, confused.

Dean was tense. "No. Angel."

Without further explanation, he and Sam took the lead. Buffy followed, still not entirely following the situation and watched as the trapped angel's expression soured even more. " _Winchesters._ Figures _you two_ would end up involved in all this." He addressed them flatly.

Buffy frowned involuntarily. "Is there anyone out there who _doesn't_ know who you guys are?" She said in disbelief.

"Who did this to you?" Sam questioned.

"Castiel." He answered resentfully. The suited angel rolled his eyes. "Naturally his humans _pets_ wouldn't be very far." He muttered in contempt.

The three of them exchanged a look. Buffy looked back and shrugged. "I just thought it was a Cash fan with a sense of humor." She quipped.

"Where _is_ Cas?" Dean demanded.

The trapped angel gave them a look. "... _Around."_ He replied drolly, intentionally being unhelpful.

Frustration filled Dean's face and he glowered, sharing a brief glance look with Sam.

Buffy caught this questioningly. The brothers had told her Cas had struck out on his own and been searching for the crypts a month, but she knew there was more to it than that. There was something they weren't telling her.

Sam was meaningful. "We need to look around this place."

Dean looked like had mixed feelings, but nodded.

The two of them hardly started to turn away when the red-headed angel spoke again. "What is it with you boys, prancing around and taking what's not yours to take?" He began in disdain. "Lucifer's crypts has nothing to with humans. This is _angel_ business."

"Well, if we left it up to you, you'd make a mess out of it pretty damn quick." Dean retorted, whirling around. "We _know_ what it's been like upstairs."

The angel scoffed. "You Winchesters have always thought you're more important than you are."

"It's not about being _important_. It's about stopping the _demons_." Sam expressed, incredulous. "And while you keep trying to stop us, Crowley or Labolas could be getting what they want."

The angel said nothing, staring at them through narrowed eyes. The brothers and the angel glared at each other a moment.

"We'd let you offer an hand, but you're looking a little tied up." Dean taunted.

The Winchesters were already making a move to go, but Buffy lingered. Dean and Sam stopped again, glancing at her questioningly. The blonde slayer was staring at the angel hard with crossed arms, contemplative. An idea suddenly occurred to her.

"I feel like I should be flogging. An angel, trapped in the burning ring of fire and I don't even wanna lift a finger." She began casually, a bit of a smirk on her face. Her expression turned innocent. "Does that make me a blasphemer?"

Sam sighed in exasperation. "Buffy, _come on._ "

"Just leave the dick." Dean said gruffly.

Buffy ignored them. She crossed her arms, starting to circle him. "But y'know, since we have some nice quality trap time ... I'm feeling Q&A. Like _where_ is Zaphkiel's scythe?" She asked, going from flippant to dead serious as stopped and stared at him.

The angel looked faintly confused. "Zaphkiel's scythe?"

"You know what it is. Your angel holy hand grenade from the spoils of war or whatever. It's supposed to be for travelling between different universes without the 'ripping holes in reality' part." Buffy continued. Her expression became threatening as she stepped forward. " _I need it."_

The angel stared at her, his gaze intense. Sam and Dean were quiet now, looking on.

Suddenly he scoffed. "You're from a alternate reality? No one again would ever ..." He suddenly trailed off, his incredulity leaving as he studied her through narrowed eyes. " ... Oh, I see. So _you're_ her."

The undeniable meaning struck a cord with Buffy. "What does that mean?" She demanded. When the angel said nothing, the slayer's temper was ignited. " _What does that mean?_!" She reiterated fiercely.

Again, the angel didn't answer and Buffy wanted nothing more but to go through the wall of fire and beat it out of him after _everything_ she's been through. Instead she clenched her fists and glared, overwhelmed with frustration. "Tell me where the scythe is."

The angel wasn't cooperating. "And you think I know?"

"Look, you have to know _something_. Rumors, whatever. It's your piece." Dean cut in impatiently.

"The angel who made it. Zaphkiel. Does he have it?" Sam asked.

"Zaphkiel's dead." The angel said matter-of-factly.

Still pissed, Buffy elaborated further. " _Look._ I went to a university in Springfield following a rumor, but it wasn't there. So just tell me if you know where it is. I just wanna get back to my life." She just managed to keep her voice even.

The angel studied her a long moment, gauging her. She couldn't make out his emotions. " ... Your search was fruitless from the start." He began levelly, looking her in the eye. "It's been dest—"

A angel blade came out of nowhere like a javelin, cutting clean through the neck to the other side. Buffy couldn't even comprehend what she was seeing when there was a bright light and scream as he collapsed, parts of it's body burning from the flames still surrounding it. The slayer and the brothers looked to see Cas suddenly standing a short ways away. His expression was cold and detached as he stared down at the body.

" _Cas?! Again?!"_ Sam exclaimed in outrage, throwing out his arms.

Dean was just as pissed. _"Cas, what the hell?!"_

"He was wasting your time." Castiel justified simply, walking over to him with a stern look. " _We're_ wasting time. The crypt—"

"The scythe was destroyed." Buffy said softly, numb by reality as she put it all together. Bitterness broke through and she faced him. "You never gave me a way out. You _lied_ to me." She accused, anger and incredulity pumping her veins.

Cas remained unflappable. "Zerith was lying."

"You _set_ me up." The blonde slayer said angrily, shaking her head as she advanced towards him.

"No, I—"

" _Cas._ Just ... just _stop,_ okay?" Dean cut the angel off, raising up his head. He looked drained. "We _know_ you've been hiding things. This is the second time you went blade-happy. Now I don't know what the hell's the wrong with you, but at least own up to it."

Sam's look was sharp. "Be _honest_ with her, Cas. You owe it to her."

"You got that right." Buffy agreed bitterly.

Castiel looked between the three clustered around him, imitating a cornered rat. Helplessness and annoyance rose on his face. "I am not your enemy in this." He insisted.

"Then tell _the truth_ , Cas!" Dean appealed, frustration on his face. "Be _honest._ For the first time since you got back."

Cas said nothing, just staring at them. Buffy felt her emotions getting the better of her again. She clenched her fists. "You told me right from the beginning that I could find that scythe when you knew all along it was destroyed. _Why_?" Her voice broke on the last word, feeling completely betrayed.

Castiel stared at her, intense and stoic. A long, tense moment passed. Buffy's piercing glare never wavered. And then finally ... "It's not destroyed."

Buffy completely lost it. She punched him hard in the face with all her slayer strength, sending the angel toppling and crashing to the floor. "You sent me on a wild goose chase _all this time_ and still stand there and lie to my face. I _trusted_ you!" The blonde exploded. "I have a _family_ I left behind! My _friends,_ my _charges_ , my _life_!" Waves of fury and pain were rolling off of her. "They need me, and you played me! You made me think I ..." Buffy couldn't go on, utterly devastated as tears finally rolled down her face.

 _This can't be happening._

Buffy thought nothing could be worse than the low she had felt after finding out she killed those possessed people.

She was wrong.

Dean and Sam stared at her speechlessly. Castiel had got to his feet again and for the first time since he appeared, she saw real regret in his eyes. The blonde slayer glared back coldly even through the tears. A long moment passed. " ... You can't go home." Cas said in a sigh.

"Can't or won't let me?" Buffy asked in a steely voice.

Castiel didn't respond and stared at her remorsefully. She didn't know what to take from that and the fact he actually looked like he felt sorry for her only made her more mad. Why couldn't he just tell her why? How could he do this to her and not only _not_ explain, but have the nerve to feel _bad_ for her?

 _I knew all along you couldn't trust him._ Buffy thought bitterly. Why was she doing this to herself? She was so alone and desperate to go home she'd do anything, believe anyone. It was why she didn't bother asking questions about the "human-looking" demons. It was why this was happening now. She was _bettee_ than this.

"Why, Cas?" Somewhere in Buffy's grief-addled mind she registered Dean turning to Cas, his gaze on him confused and disapproving. "You can lie your ass off to us for months ... but _her_? She's got nothing to do with this. She just wanted to go home." His expression turned hard. "She just wanted to _go home_!" He said more angrily.

The fallen angel said nothing once more and just looked the hunter in the eye, impassive. A few more moments of silence passed. Tension was thick in the air.

" ... How you'd get out of Purgatory, Cas?" Dean finally asked, somber and pointed as he looked at him.

Out of all things to say, Buffy hadn't expected that. She glanced at him. _He was in Purgatory?_

Dean waited, clearly expecting an answer, but Cas drew away. "We need to investigate the entirety of this warehouse. The crypt could still be here." He declared very seriously, stern and out of patience as gave them a meaningful look before walking away.

Pain and frustration was on Dean's face as he watched Cas go. He exchanged a helpless look with Sam. Both confused, disappointed, but most of all completely resigned.

The slayer herself felt a special kind of resentment at the evasive response, but what she resented more was that she knew he was right. Ignoring everything in her that made her feel she was at _breaking point's_ breaking point and didn't even want be near Cas, Buffy wiped the tear-stains off her face and pulled herself together.

She noticed Dean and Sam looking at her now, matching expressions of concerned uncertainty. The slayer could read the silent question. She took in a deep breath and nodded bravely. "We need to." Buffy said, her voice softer than normal but firm.

The Winchesters looked at her a moment. Having all come to a grueling consensus, the trio moved in unison and followed Castiel.

* * *

~~Dean~~

The investigation of the rest of the warehouse was spent largely in tense silence. Buffy had daggers on Cas nearly the entire time and Dean didn't blame her one damn bit. Only Cas seemed as comfortable as he could be, focused entirely on the found himself grateful that Cas had already searched through a majority of the place without them.

It wasn't long until they found a broken down wall that led to a hidden basement. Dean hadn't had his hopes very high of there being a crypt, but that _definitely_ got his attention ... and made him a little uneasy. They proceeded inside with caution, not sure what was waiting inside.

The dark, hidden basement turned out not to be a basement. Surprise hit Dean despite himself as it saw it open up into a large and archaic crypt. The three moved of them more slowly, shining their flashlights for enemies or anything that stood out. Castiel went on ahead through the corridor, his eyesight not impaired.

Dirt, dust, and cobwebs covered the crypt near-entirely. Broken-down, ancient artifacts were stashed inside in different parts of the room. Most of them he couldn't guess what they were. The hunter felt himself trip on something and shined his flashlight, shocked to see it was a dead body. A _fresh_ one.

"Guys ... I think we came to party a little late." Dean stated grimly, staring down at it. It looked like he was stabbed ... and stabbed only by one thing.

"There's another one over here." Buffy's equally terse voice informed. The older Winchester looked over to see another a body dead on the ground against the wall. "No, wait. Two." She added on, taking in a dead woman a short ways on the ground.

"There's three more by me." Sam threw in on the other side. Sure enough three more bodies were stabbed and thrown. His brother was kneeling down by one. "There's sulfur. I think they're demons."

Dean had to agree. The stench of sulfur was overpowering in here. He looked back down at the body, frowning deeply. "Six dead demons?" He said incredulously.

"Something happened here." Buffy stated, moving away from the body.

"What the hell?" Dean exclaimed, more uneasy than ever as he maneuvered himself around the bodies. "Cas—" He immediately broke off, spotting the angel in the middle of the room as soon as he looked up. He stood stiffly at a stone table, unmoving.

The hunter started to approach him. "Cas?" He asked cautiously, feeling Buffy and Sam join him on either side.

Castiel hardly moved. The three of them finally noticed what he was staring at: a large, carved wooden chest ... opened up and completely empty.

"What is it?" Sam asked warily.

The angel clenched his fist. "It's _gone._ " He said in frustration.

"The parchment?" Sam queried, startled.

Cas whipped around to face them, his distressed anger palpable. "The _Angel Tablet."_

All three stared at him a moment, stunned and bewildered. Too soon the unpleasant implications caught up to Dean. "You _lied_ to us?" He replied incredulously.

" _There's_ a surprise." Buffy muttered.

Castiel walked between them, shaking his head in bitter disappointment and frustration. For the first time in a while, Dean detected a real sense of fear in the angel ... and that, despite everything scared him.

"Cas, what the hell is going on?" Sam asked, confused frustration in his own voice.

Three sets of eyes were on the fallen angel as he stood there, but he didn't turn to look at them. "... _Labolas._ " Cas muttered.

Dean's eyes widened. Before he could begin to answer, the trench-coated angel vanished. Immediate resignation and bitterness filled the Winchester as he took in the spot he had been at it. He gave a little sigh and looked away. Of course.

"Did anyone ever teach him how to answer a question?" Buffy said in annoyance.

The Winchester was about to agree with her when he got distracted by Sam. His brother bent down, wiping something off the very edge of the table. The younger hunter's mouth was set in a hard line as he held up his hand. Dean's heart sunk a little inside as he recognized the goo-like powder.

Sammy's look was meaningful. " _Labolas._ "

They searched the rest of the crypt. The only clue they found was more of Labolas' sulfur and with every bit he saw, the more Dean felt like hitting something because he knew what it meant. They finally left behind the warehouse and everything it represented, standing directly outside now in middle of night as all that happened sunk in.

"Labolas was the one that killed all the demons. They must've fought and then he took the tablet." Buffy stated solemnly, her arms crossed.

Dean scoffed. "More demon-on-demon shish kabob and the freaky bastard leaving us in the dirt before we can even do anything. Deja vu." He commented cynically, bitterly reminded of two months ago.

"He knew _exactly_ where it was. And now he has the Angel Tablet ... whatever that is." Sam responded, a nervous and uncomfortable frown on his face.

"Which Cas lied to us about." Dean replied with a bit of outrage.

"Yeah. I can kind of understand why though. If a Demon Tablet can close the gates of Hell, what can an Angel Tablet do?" Sam thought out loud.

"He should've _trusted_ us." The older Winchester argued, angry and hurt. He couldn't believe Cas went that far to hide everything just to keep them from knowing what's going on. Hell, he couldn't believe _a lot_ of what happened tonight.

"You're both missing the point." Buffy interjected. "Labolas has what he's been after this whole time ... and that's _bad news_. He's already high up on the uber-strength scale. I don't even wanna know what he plans to do with that thing."

Dean internalized that from every side. "Cas is off the reservation and Labolas is in the wind with a heavenly WMD. Hell of a top off for the night." He remarked bitterly, rolling his eyes. He could literally think of a thousand ways right now to say "we're screwed."

"It's not _entirely_ bad. At least Labolas won't be able to translate it without Kevin ... I think." The blonde slayer replied nervously, frowning.

Sam nodded. "That's a good point. It can't be too much different from Demon Tablet."

Dean said nothing, not entirely comforted. He just wish he knew how to kill him already or at least send him back to Hell. He hadn't felt his hopeless and strung-out over a monster since the Leviathans. The worst part of all being he had that and Cas being completely untrustworthy. It was a double-whammy of stress and anger and it was already taking a toll.

Hurt, confusion, and resentment burned away at Dean at the thought of Cas. Sure, he knew something was wrong ... but knowing was different than seeing in front of his eyes. He just didn't know what the hell was up with his friend. He didn't know if Purgatory had driven him insane or Cas was betraying them again. He couldn't even tell if his own friend was in trouble or against them. What did that say about their friendship when he couldn't chose his side without question?

Dean didn't know. All he knew was Castiel didn't trust him. All he knew was he felt like he lost him. After Purgatory and forgiving Cas for letting the Leviathans out and now his recent problems with Sam ... it cut deeper than he could he say. Cas was slipping away from him and all he could do was watch.

 _ **####**_

"An Angel Tablet, all this time. Demons were after it, angels ..." Sam began in disbelief, shaking his head. They were directly at the door to their motel room on the upper floor, outside in the exterior hallway. "It does make you wonder. What's on a Angel Tablet that everyone wanted so bad?"

Dean was still wrestling with his own inner turmoil. "Well, Cas could've told us, but god forbid he lets us in on one of his 'holy missions.' Maybe if he worked with us for one damn second, none of this would've happened."

"It wouldn't have made a difference." Buffy said. "Say Labolas _did_ know where it was ... he probably got to the crypt a while before we did."

"Well, that doesn't give him an excuse to be a dick." Dean muttered. The hunter looked over to her with a incredulous frown. "Why _you?_ I mean, the Angel Tablet I get ... but lying about the scythe? That's way out of a left field."

"You're really asking the wrong person." Buffy sounded resigned.

Sam sighed. "Believe me, we wish we knew. I mean, lying? Saying the scythe wasn't destroyed? Taking you all the way to that college, letting you think he's helping? That's ... that's _not_ Cas." His brother responded in confusion, an uncertain look on his face.

"Who really knows who Cas is these days." Dean answered, deep in his own cynicism and broken trust. Was this all it was now? People letting him down? Those same people letting _other_ people down?

He took a large, long gulp of his beer that was already more than half-way gone. He was raring for another. Dean was planning to spend the rest of the night getting really, _really_ drunk. The sooner he was numb to this crap, the better.

The older Winchester glanced back at Buffy, taking notice of the distant look in her eyes. Him and Sam weren't the ones who got the short end out of this. " ... You okay?" He asked her.

Buffy kept her gaze fixed on the night sky. " ... He lied to me." She began, her lower lip jutting out in hurt pout. She gave a bitter smile. "I thought I had a road map. Follow the yellow brick road, right?" The slayer's face fell and she shook her head. "Everything I did looking for that scythe, it was all for nothing. Where's my brick road now?" She murmured, soft with sadness.

Dean watched, fraught with sympathy and even guilt. He was one that made her go to Cas to begin with. Why didn't he just follow his instinct and keep the angel out of her problems? He kept messing up with this one. First the demon thing, now this? He didn't think he ever once saw this girl happy and instead of making it better, he was making it worse.

"Hey. You're not the only chump here, alright? He lied to _all_ of us." Dean tried to comfort her.

"You couldn't have known." Sam said.

Buffy looked so upset. "Was it all just a _trap_? Luring me out to the college so Labolas could kill me ... and then telling me he has the scythe?" She wondered. She shook her head. "The angel from before ... he knew more. And whatever it was, Cas didn't want me to know." Her expression turned deadly serious. "There's something going on here, and the angels aren't telling. I need to know why."

"Well, that's what angels do. Eventually you figure out ways around it." Sam replied matter-of-factly.

Dean nodded. "Those angels ... They like to pull strings. Trust Sam and me on that. But we never let 'em. We'll figure it out."

Buffy acknowledged them with a look, then went back to staring out at the parking lot. "Suddenly grateful I never went to Sunday school." She deadpanned, weary.

"It'll work out, okay? Whatever they're thinking, if-if they want to _use_ you or something ...They're not gonna get what they want." His little brother reassured.

The slayer hardened. " _More_ power plays." She said in disgust. "I wasn't brought here to volunteer for puppet theater. I was brought here to _leave._ Whatever they're planning, I'm gonna take a wild guess and say 'I _don't care_ '." Buffy declared strongly.

"Preach it, baby." Dean supported, a bit of smirk on his face as he looked at her admiringly. Even though he knew she was in ten different kinds of pain now, she still stood there telling everyone to go screw themselves. She didn't let anyone break her or control her and he respected the hell out of that, not to mention it was incredibly hot. Something about that iron stubbornness of hers stirred a feeling in him. _She's definitely something else._

"I wish I was home." Buffy said in a sigh, dejected.

"Buffy, you will be. Eventually." Sam promised. "Okay, so maybe Cas and the scythe was bust. But if something brought you here, something can still bring you out. We _will_ find a way. It's not over."

The blonde looked at him bleakly, then forced a smile. "I'm glad you guys are here. I mean, I-I'm still not okay with the demon thing and the fact you didn't tell me ... but if it wasn't for you guys, I don't know where I'd be right now. You're not _all_ bad."

"Is that an insult or a compliment?" Sam asked, frowning.

"Little bit of both." Buffy quipped, but her expression was meaningful.

"We'll take it." Dean agreed flippantly, unoffended.

That triggered a small, more genuine smile from her. "Really, I mean it. You're both ... just trying to help. That means a lot to me." The slayer admitted. "I guess we're still stuck with each other."

"Well, if it means anything ... me and Sammy have had worse company." Dean admitted, earnest as he looked from Sam to her. His brother nodded and smiled.

Buffy smiled a little, but she had a weary look in her eyes and he realized how much of an effort it was taking for her to even do that. "It's just ... all of this. It's a lot." She murmured, avoiding their gazes.

The hunter saw the flash of pain in her eyes she was desperately trying to hide. It bothered him to see it, but he didn't know what to say. Unsure what to do, Dean just silently offered his beer. Buffy stared at it drearily a moment, then took the bottle and drank some down. She screwed up her face and shook her head after.

Dean noticed the semi-disgust. "Hey, if you don't like it, you don't have to—"

"No, I really do." She said with feeling. Immediately she downed a larger gulp, making a face yet again.

The older Winchester blinked and looked to Sam. His brother gave a helpless shake of his head and Dean shrugged with a little smirk, going with it. Who the hell was he to question it?

"I know you're under a lot right now, Buffy." Sam began sympathetically. "If you ever want to talk about it or anything ... I'm here. Anytime. Just ask."

The blonde lowered the bottle and looked at him a long moment. Slowly she smiled. "... You're sweet. And thank you." She said in a heartfelt voice. Her smile was charmed, but there was a tinge of sadness to it.

Sam noticed. "What?"

"It's ... you just reminded me of someone I used to know." Buffy explained. Her smile became sadder, like she was recounting a painful memory. She nodded. "I needed it." The slayer looked at Sam fondly and Dean swore for a second she was taken by his brother.

The younger Winchester looked confused and a little curious, but respectfully didn't pry. He gave a shy smile under her affectionate look. "Just go easy on yourself." He told her gently. They stared at each other a moment before Sam turned to go to their room.

Dean, feeling a little weird about what just happened but not sure why, followed. He only took a couple paces before he stopped. Sam was already inside when he turned to her, seeing Buffy chug the last of his beer in one gulp with a grimace.

"Are you gonna be alright?" He asked again.

Buffy looked at him, seeing nothing but weariness on her face once again. " ... You still got that offer for a drink open?" She finally said.

Dean merely nodded, understanding as he pulled out his phone to text Sam he'd be out. Jadedness, loneliness, and a dull pain matching the slayer's own thrummed through him, all because of Cas. He had been planning to get drunk out of his mind at a bar someplace anyway. And with the day they both had ... Dean knew they both needed a friend.

You know how what they say. Misery loves company.

* * *

~~Buffy~~

Buffy and Dean sat across from each other in a booth nearest to the wall at a secluded part of a bar. The hunter had a large beer while Buffy ordered a smaller, less strong brand more her style.

Not that Dean's beer of choice was the most disgusting she ever had. She had worse. Most of which out of Spike's old stash.

They sat in silence, not speaking as they wallowed in the day's events. Buffy wasn't sure what to say even if she wanted to. Castiel's lie about the scythe she was never going to get had completely drained her of all her energy. She just barely processed the reality that she killed someone. There was still a part of her asking if this was all really happening.

Buffy hadn't thought much about why she was here with Dean. Her mind was wrapped up with her problems while her body went to cruise control and somehow she ended up here. She just knew she didn't want to be alone ... and maybe on some subconscious level she saw that in Dean too.

It wasn't long before Dean finished his beer and moved to shots. Buffy watched him, still with her first drink. She sighed wearily. " ... First, I find out I'm a murderer and then that I'm locked in a different universe without the key." She sipped her beer. "I feel like that sets the _Guiness World Record_ for 'bad week.'"

Dean raised his head. Discomfort flitted across his face and he hesitated. He sighed. "Listen, Buffy ... I'm really sorry about Cas. I knew something short-circuited in him. I shouldn't have got him to help you."

Buffy eyed him warily. Suddenly Dean's lack of defensiveness over questioning Cas and that dim sense he'd been hiding something from her too this whole time clicked together.

"You knew. You knew he was up to something." Her tone was quietly even.

The Winchester looked down. He grabbed a shot. "Why do you think I didn't bring him in the second you got here?" He admitted, matter-of-fact. "You were right. About him, about _everything_. Hell, I knew that even _before_ and I still ..." He broke off and shook his head. "I was _so_ damn stupid." He muttered, taking the shot.

The blonde slayer recognized the mingled blend of guilt and pain in his eyes. "Not stupid. You just wanted to believe he was still him. He _is_ your friend." Buffy had felt the exact same when Willow went dark and tried to end the world. She didn't want to believe that was her Wil either.

Dean scoffed, immediately chugging another shot. "Yeah. _Was,_ maybe. Now ... I don't know." He answered tiredly. "I mean, what kind of friend doesn't trust you and goes around playing head games with your case?"

Buffy stared at him sympathetically as she drank her beer. Suddenly she caught the phrasing and frowned. " _I'm_ your case?"

"Hey, Sam started throwing that word around first, not me." The hunter replied with a shrug.

The slayer managed a vaguely amused look. She finished her beer and shoved it aside. "You said something before about Purgatory ... Cas was with you?"

Dean smiled ruefully. "All year long. Him and me in the trenches. The two of us ... We've been through hell and back together. Most of the time really."

Buffy nodded, taking it in. She couldn't forgive Cas for lying about the scythe. She lost complete trust in the angel, but she could see he meant a lot to Dean and that he was hurt badly too in a different way. She wasn't going to make this all about her. "So what happened?" She asked softly.

The Winchester paused, his face falling. "I don't know. He was there a little longer than me. Maybe it just ... _did_ something to him. Messed with his noggin. He didn't come back on the Sane Train." Dean shrugged. "Hell, neither of us did."

Buffy couldn't help a small smile. " Y'know ... for a self-proclaimed basket case, you seem crazy functional."

Dean smiled back slowly. "... Beer helps." He held up a shot glass with a meaningful look before downing it.

Even with everything wrong, that nearly brought a chuckle out of Buffy. She found herself gazing at him a moment, a spark passing between them. "What was it like in there? In Purgatory?" The blonde meant it as a casual question, but she realized with a bit of jolt that Dean never _had_ really told her about his experience. He always avoided details.

The hunter's expression darkened. He hesitated, suddenly tenser as his eyes filled with memories. "Violent. Messy. Filled with every monster in the bingo book, a lot of which you axed yourself ... and they're pissed. Full-on _Survivor_."

"Sounds like my kind of place." Buffy quipped.

"Good times." Dean said with a nod, just as flippant. "Let me tell ya. You couldn't even _rest_ there. Every time you turn around, there was another one of those evil sons of bitches over your shoulder. It was pretty gnarly."

"And it was like this _every_ day? The monsters, the fighting ..."

"Basically. These boots kept walkin' though."

The blonde slayer frowned. _Purgatory sounds a lot like a hell dimension_ _... and Dean was there a year?_ Buffy thought in disbelief. "Don't take this the wrong way ... but how are you alive?" She asked bluntly, giving him a quizzical look.

"That is a damn good question." Dean answered with feeling, shaking his head as he grabbed another shot.

The slayer couldn't help but surprised. It's not that she didn't respect non-powered fighters, but that was insane. Most demons hunters she knew wouldn't even make it six months in place like that, let alone a full year. Robin definitely couldn't. She wasn't even sure if _Riley_ could. Buffy knew Dean was good, but she didn't know he was _that_ good.

"Dean ... you might be one of the best fighters I ever met." Buffy said, stunned.

"Well, let's not that go that far." The Winchester replied flatly.

The blonde was firm. "I'm a slayer. I know fighting like a girl knows clothes. If you really survived all that, then you're one of best. Get an _Oscar_ for human at least."

The hunter finished off his fourth shot as she was speaking and looked at her. "Well then, I guess I'd like to thank the Academy." He deadpanned.

Buffy gave a little, perplexed smile. It was weird how someone who always seemed so proud and full of himself would brush off any compliment you ever gave him, even on his slaying. He did that a _lot_ she realized. She was starting to see he wasn't as cocky or self-assured as he acted. She wasn't sure if _'humble_ ' was the right word ... but insecurity? Low self-esteem?

Dean had this intense, scrutinizing look now. Like he was trying to figure her out just as much as she was trying to figure out him. " ... Why are you hunting?"

Buffy was caught off guard by the sudden question. She turned solemn. "You mean slaying."

"Slaying, hunting. Whatever." Dean said impatiently.

The blonde gave a wry, weary smile. "I already told you, remember? _Slayer?_ Life of the Chosen One, yada yada yada scary battles, saving the world, constant stunted social life." _Not that I even deserve to be one_. Buffy added silently, thinking back to the people she killed.

"Yeah, I got that part. Why are you _still_ doing it?" The hunter asked. The slayer looked at him, startled. "I mean, the way you put it ... there's a whole bunch of you now. Why not just put the horse down and retire?"

Buffy frowned at him. No one had ever asked her this before. She hadn't even asked herself. Quit slaying in a world of a newly-called slayers? "I can't. I have like, eight hundred slayers in the Slayer Organization to worry about. I'm the leader." She replied, sounding as if it was obvious.

"So you feel _obligated_." Dean stated, giving her a pointed look.

"No ... yes ... _what_?" Buffy said in confusion.

The Winchester's expression was intense. "You could step down. Let someone else run things."

The blonde slayer wavered. She wanted so badly to not lead the Slayer Organization that had taken such a toll on her. She had done such a terrible job leading the slayers that she really _did_ think they were better off ... but she still couldn't leave them. She had to make it better. _Be_ better. Leaving them behind was just accepting she failed.

Buffy shook her head. "No. I was the one who made all them slayers. I can't walk away from that."

Dean stared at her. A strange look was on his face. "Y'know ... it _is_ a choice. Hunting, hunting with them. You _can_ get out. Do what you want for a change." He told her, surprising Buffy by the sincerity in it. "This life? Not everyone's cut out for it. It can eat you alive."

There was a warning to that that got the slayer's attention. She paused, staring at him with slightly narrowed eyes. "... I think I got that ten years back, thanks." Buffy said coolly.

"I'm just saying. If you don't need to live out this crapola anymore, then don't do it." The hunter insisted, expression meaningful.

 _He thinks I can't handle the slaying_

They had _finally_ formed some sort of even ground after telling him about her apocalypses and here Dean was this time implying she didn't have the "mental" capacity.

Outrage seethed in Buffy. She gave a hard, angry look. " _Look_ , Dean. I've been on this one-way trip a long time. The badness, death, apocalypse. So it's not a bed with rose petals ... but it is _my_ life. Don't go telling me I don't know how to live it." If there was anything she could handle, it _was_ slaying.

Maybe on some level Buffy recognized Dean thought by saying this he was protecting her ... but she didn't need "protection". His behavior disappointed and confused her as much as it annoyed her. She thought they got past the underestimating phase. What triggered this back up all of a sudden?

Dean looked surprised at first by her fierce response. He shook his head. "Sorry I said anything." He grumbled, reaching for the last shot.

The blonde rolled her eyes and stole it, taking the last shot for herself. Dean gave her a look, but she ignored him. "So. Since you're just _so_ into all the whys and hows of my slayerness ... how about digging a little deeper in _your_ origin story? Like you and Sam being _raised_ in this? What, is that like family tradition or something?"

"You could say that." The hunter admitted. "I usually just go with 'family business'. Our dad got us into it when were kids."

Buffy downed Dean's shot, grimacing at it's stronger tang and definitely start to feel a bit swimmy. She wasn't incredibly drunk, but getting there. She snapped back and refocused on what the Winchester said. "Your dad?"

He gave a proud, slightly sad half-smile. "Best damn hunter ever. Taught us everything he knew. He was ... He was badass."

" ... _Was_." The slayer repeated.

Dean's smile became a little sadder. "He died a while back. Demon." He explained shortly. "It's just been me and Sammy."

 _What about your mother?_ Buffy couldn't help but wonder, noticing her strange absence. Maybe the absence was the answer. Understanding flowed over her and she stared at him sympathetically. "... My mother died too."

Surprise flashed across the hunter's face. "Demon?"

"Aneurysm." She answered flatly, looking down.

"I'm sorry." Dean replied sincerely.

"It was five years ago. I mean ... at least she died peacefully." The slayer responded quietly, trying to hide the pain of her mother's loss that was still strong. She missed her so much, especially now. Not a single day had gone by since she died that she hadn't thought about her.

The Winchester nodded, saying nothing. A distant, pained look entered his eyes and Buffy realized. Her eyes widened. "Oh, I'm sorry. I-I shouldn't have ..." She rushed to say, conscious of his own mother's death that was probably far from peaceful.

Dean shrugged. "She died way back when. I barely even remember it."

He was too dismissive to be genuine and Buffy sensed it, but she let him be. Not like she was any better than him. She also got the strong feeling his mother was one of those _'nevers_ ' as in his "increasingly long list of things he'll _never_ talk to you about". Since he even said that much, she didn't want to ruin it.

A short silence passed. " ... Well, this is one happy-go-lucky chat we've been having." Dean deadpanned.

"This was supposed to be happy?" Buffy questioned, feigning confusion.

The Winchester shook his head. "Wasn't in _my_ plans."

"Well, at least we're on the same page." The blonde slayer quipped. The hunter smiled just the slightest in amusement and they looked at each other. "So what about you? If you're so fatalist about the slayer-hunter gig ... then why are _you_ still doing it?"

Dean paused. She thought at first she had broached another one of his ' _nevers'_ (she never knew with this guy), then realized his expression was thoughtful. He shrugged. "I guess I'm just used to it. After all these years ... it's kinda just _become_ me, y'know? Hellhole or paradise." He shrugged again. "If you're gonna be a miserable bastard, at least have it be by you, right?" He justified flippantly.

Buffy stared, moved by his words. Everything she first thought about Dean had been wrong. He wasn't just another hot guy with depth equivalent to a kitty pool's. He liked to act shallow and jerkish, but deep down he was so much more and in that moment more than ever she saw it. She always went on and on how she never understood Dean ... but suddenly it was like she understood him more than she did her own friends.

"Stockholm Syndrome to the job." Dean scoffed, a tired smirk on his face. "That probably sounds crazy." He said a little self-consciously, avoiding her eyes.

"No ... It really doesn't." The slayer answered softly. She knew exactly how he felt. He said what she had never been able to say: slaying was who she was, even through the bad and when she wanted a normal life. It was part of her, just like it was a part of him. Buffy knew now her and Dean weren't so different.

Dean raised his head, meeting her meaningful look. They stared at each other a long moment, connection and understanding passing between them as they both weighed that. Feelings welled up inside Buffy. After everything, it was nice to be understood. She hadn't had that in very long time, even in her own world. It made her feel ... less lonely.

The moment was gone too soon. The revelation of the destroyed scythe and the lies weighed oppressively down on her again. Buffy looked down, pulled back into reality. "Dean ... when you were trapped in Purgatory, how'd you keep going? How'd you know you'd find a way out?" She raised her head to look at him. Needing some kind of anchor or reassurance.

"I kept telling myself I would. That plane wasn't gonna make it's bitch." He declared with determination. "With Cas and—" Dean faltered, expression changing a split second but regrouped in a flash. "Bottom line, we got out. You just gotta keep trying."

"... At least you weren't alone." She said sadly.

Dean looked at her sympathetically. "You're not alone. You got me, and Sam. We're not gonna leave you."

The blonde slayer stared at him. It's been a long time since anyone really said to her and even longer since she believed it. It meant so much to her that even after what happened with Cas and what he was going through, Dean cared enough to stick by her when she felt so alone. Even though it still didn't change where she was.

"It just feels like I'm _stranded_ here. I can't go after the scythe anymore. I don't know what else to do. I don't even know where else to _look."_ She expressed in frustrated dismay.

" _Hey."_ The hunter's suddenly stern voice drew her attention back. "I get this whole thing sucks. Trust me, I've been where you are too. But you gotta power past it. What about your sister? How'd you think _she'd_ feel, hearing you talk like that?"

Buffy paused, heart automatically crushing at the thought of Dawn's devastation—and her own devastation at losing her. But the memories of the past three years of their relationship came back ... and then she wasn't so sure. She sighed. "You mean the sister that was barely talking to me?"

"That's exactly why you _have_ to." Dean insisted. "You need to find a way out of here to set things right with her yourself. You can't give up. Not on this and not on her. She's your _little sister._ There's no way you'll be able to live with yourself, leaving it like this. I _wouldn't!_ " He argued with passion.

His words wrapped around Buffy like a cocoon of pained certainty. He was right. She'd never forgive herself. They always had problems, but she loved her sister through and through. She had to salvage whatever was left of their relationship and get out. Dean knew that. He knew that because he'd be the same way with Sam.

"I'm not giving up. I need to get back to Dawn. I need to fix this." Buffy reassured, filled with weathered resolution. As hard as everything was becoming, as hard as it was to keep hope ... she wasn't going to quit. Not on Dawn or her friends or the slayers.

Dean smiled a little. "Now that's more like it."

 _ **####**_

Both feeling emotionally drained, Buffy and Dean finally left the bar and headed back to the motel late. There was tension and neither one of them felt really at peace with everything that happened. After a very long day and night, Dean finally walked her back to her motel room.

"Thanks for all this. Just ... hanging out. Today was really ..." The blonde said at the door, turning to him.

The hunter brushed it off. "We both needed it."

" ... Yeah." Buffy agreed, feeling bad for him all over again. She wasn't the one that got the worst part out of today. "I'm sorry about Cas."

"I guess he knows a thing or two about screwing us both over." Dean was trying to be dismissive again, but was obviously uncomfortable this time.

" ... It wasn't your fault."

Dean didn't respond. Buffy could tell from the look in his eyes he didn't believe her. That he blamed himself for Cas lying to her.

A few moments passed. Dean hesitated, staring at her uncertainly. "I should go. Sammy ... He's waiting for me."

Buffy was suddenly gripped with emotion. She didn't want him to go. Everything that happened so far was still so much. She didn't want to be alone right now. She didn't want to think about this. She wanted to think about something other than the pain. An escape, just for a little while.

Dean lingered though and they stared each other. Like a satellite in orbit, Buffy found herself gravitating to him. The hunter didn't move, watching her like a hawk as she drew closer. When she was inches away, Dean started to bent his head but it Buffy who closed the distance, kissing him softly. He didn't hesitate to reciprocate, moving his lips with hers with a gentleness that surprised her. The slayer clung to him, allowing herself to take comfort in the kiss.

She should've stopped it there. Just a simple, innocent _'comfort'_ kiss.

She didn't.

She ran a hand up his chest, feeling it's sturdiness before clasping the side of his face and tilting his head to deepen it. Dean let her in an instant, his arms going to her waist and pulling her sharply against him. The mood was changing now and changing fast. Buffy wrapped her other arm around his neck, passion and demand leaking through.

The slayer felt her mind clouding over. The more they kissed, the more she forgot and that's what she wanted. To forgot. Forgot about home, Cas's lies, her guilt of killing someone and the constant loneliness. She wanted it to all go away, even for a second. A raw, desperate need for connection and solace cut her up deep inside and she poured every bit of that into Dean.

Buffy moaned low in her throat as the hunter caressed her sides, teasing her as he just barely slipped his hands under her spaghetti-strap tank top before running them up and down her back. Another moan came and she kissed him deep, gripping his jacket tightly as sparks of lust shot through her all the way to her toes. God, how long has it been?

Rational thought was long gone now and on vacation, driven out by overwhelming need for release. Nothing mattered anymore. Just her. Her and Dean.

The slayer pulled at Dean's dark blue jacket. She dimly recognized her back hitting her door, her mind a blank as his tongue wrestled with hers. After a few moments she came to and reached behind blindly for her doorknob. With some fumbling, she managed to get the door open. Not breaking the kiss, Buffy grabbed his jacket with both hands and pulled them together inside.

She didn't know which one of them shut the door, but Dean pinned her against it, taking control of the kiss in a sudden surge of dominance as he tangled his hands in her blonde locks. Buffy made a sound between a gasp and a moan, her arms around his neck and returning it with just as much passion and force.

Dean moved from her lips to her jaw, planting softer kisses along it before travelling down. He latched on to the side of her neck, alternating between open-mouthed kisses to little bites. Buffy was gasping and breathing heavily, sparks of pleasure shooting through her at the sensations as she clutched his head, urging him on.

She didn't care anymore. God, she _didn't_ care. It's been too long. Too long without sex. Too long fighting so hard to resist Dean. Too long dealing with everything here. She wanted him and she wanted this. She _needed_ this ... whatever happened after.

Buffy clawed desperately at his canvas jacket. The slayer struggled getting it off and over his shoulders to the point she probably would've ended up ripping it. Luckily Dean helped her out and the jacket finally slid off before he tossed it somewhere. He stole her lips again, cupping her ass as he immediately hoisted her up. Buffy jumped, wrapping her legs around him and yanking his head to hers, kissing urgently.

The hunter's hand slipped under her white shirt, running across every angle of her bare skin before travelling up. Pinpricks of pleasure came with his every touch, lost in them and his lips. He moved with purpose now and finally she felt him unclasp her bra. Buffy rocked her hips into his unconsciously, rubbing against him as her need level spiked.

Dean grunted and broke the kiss, pulling back to look at her. His eyes were two piercing green pools of intensity and lust, but she sensed a question in them. The only sound in the whole room was their heavy breathing.

They gazed at each other wordlessly a long moment. Processing. Absorbing. And then finally ... the fateful choice was made.

Dean kissed her gently before walking them back. They made out passionately as he carried her, already pulling at each other's clothes. The two finally collapsed into her bed, Dean on top as they were still lip-locked in fast and reckless abandon. Buffy's legs curled around him, moaning into his mouth at the feel of his hard, muscular body pressed against her and the sensation of Dean pulling up her ruffled top. Buffy echoed him, her hands going back down to his shirt.

Shirts, jeans, and boots were discarded in a wild haze of devouring lips and wandering hands. Finally the barrier of clothes was completely gone and Dean was climbing over her, gripping her legs as he pulled her tight against him. Buffy gasped, breathing ragged and thrumming with lust at the sight of him, drinking in everything from his chiseled chest to his scars.

Dean hovered above her, taking a moment to let his eyes wander down her body before going back to her face. His green gaze stared unblinkingly into hers. It was nothing like Riley's innocent eyes. It wasn't dark and penetrating like Angel's either or all-consuming and blue like Spike's ... but the slayer still found herself mesmerized. The emotion in his eyes—so much more simple compared to them as it was—was still everything these last three years she had gone without: _connection_.

Buffy pulled him down for a kiss, shifting their bodies and wounding her legs around his waist as she gave herself over to Dean fully and completely. She didn't overthink it. She just knew that whatever _this_ was, it was for the same reason. All her problems faded away, driven out by the explosive pleasure in their moving bodies and entangling lips. For the first time in a long while nothing mattered ... and it was exactly what she needed.

* * *

 _*Earlier...*_

Past the newly broken-down wall, four demons swarmed around the stone table in the middle of a long-abandoned crypt. Two more were positioned further down to keep watch while a third one was prowling around the room, eying the cobweb-covered artifacts with a mixture of scrutiny and disgust. One of the demons was pulling at the top of carved chest.

"I think this is it." He said, trying to force it open with his bare hands.

"It better be. Or else we're gonna end up like the last ones who Crowley told about this thing." Another male demon growled. "I'm tired of the all running around in this town. That Meg bitch's been playing games with us."

"Just hurry up." A female demon cut in gruffly closest to them. "Crowley isn't the only thing that might kill us." She told them meaningfully, glancing pensively over at her shoulders by the exit.

Tension filled the entire crypt even more than before. Finally the leading demon ripped off the top, seeing a dusted tablet with ancient writing. The three exchanged a look. Slowly the first demon reached down, anticipation on his face as he studied it. "We need to bring this to Crowley as soon as possible." He said urgently.

"I'm afraid that's not gonna happen."

A sophisticated, unfamiliar voice with a British accent cut through the crypt. Sudden dying screams sounded and they all turned, seeing the demons guarding the entrance falling dead to the floor. In the middle of it was a tall but mostly normal-looking man in a lab-coat and sweater, casually twirling a angel blade.

"Who the hell are you?" The first demon demanded, holding the tablet in his hands.

Labolas twirled on his angel blade, aggravatingly relaxed. "Hmm? Oh, yes, of course. No one recognizes me anymore." He responded with ease, mock pouting towards the end. "Your old friends happen to know me quite well. I've been scattering their bodies all over the Midwest."

Tension spiked up in the air. "You were the one of the ones who's been tracking us for the crypts and _killing_ us!" The demon farther down hissed.

"Another angel?" The female demon wondered

Labolas frowned. " _God_ no!" He exclaimed, sounding a bit horrified. "We're all _demons_ here. Unfortunately demons with different agendas. _That_ is mine now." He declared matter-of-factly, pointing to the Angel Tablet.

The demon holding the tablet tightened it's hold. "No, it's _Crowley's_. Are you insane, going against his orders and ruining the plan this whole time? He'll cook up the worst torment for you imaginable."

"Worse than that." The second demon agreed darkly.

" _Crowley?"_ Labolas responded drolly. "I heard about an upstart crossroad demon taking over Hell's throne. Terribly, I must say. No organization, no tactical experience, no keen soldiers. It's all been ... certainly dumbed down since I've been gone." He went on, narrowing his eyes as gave them a disdainful look. "Crowley is nothing more than a bug on windshield that thinks he's King."

"I _knew_ I didn't recognize this guy." The third demon pointed out.

"Who the hell _are_ you, Sherlock?" The female demon demanded.

The mysterious, curly-haired demon smirked. "Labolas." He answered pleasantly. His stark green gaze surveyed them, detecting the hostility but not a sign of awareness. "You haven't heard of me. _Of course._ Naïve, little bean-sprout demons. Don't even know your history." He remarked scornfully.

The demon further down attacked. Labolas immediately flung him aside with telekinesis, not even glancing at him. Less than a second after he send the angel blade flying and stabbed him straight through the chest. He stood there, reclaiming it slowly with telekinesis and stared at them. His eyes were demonic white but with a strange green pupil, creating an eerie contrast. Green veins stuck up sharply than ever from his neck.

"What the ...?" One of the demons uttered.

"I've gone through a few changes." Labolas deadpanned. Unimaginable power radiated off him and now the demons were truly rendered speechless in fear and confusion. "Now. Give me the Angel Tablet." He stated in menacing calm.

The demons stood rigid, trapped between fear of Crowley and fear of him. Labolas though didn't wait. The coated demon rushed the others, cutting through two more demons so fast and so sudden it could hardly even be followed. He stabbed and flung them aside with ease. The one with tablet made a move to run, but Labolas caught up and stabbed him straight up into the skull, reclaiming the Angel Tablet.

Labolas frowned down at it thoughtfully, his eyes back to it's intense green as he wiped some of the dust off. " ... Not what I was hoping to find first, but it'll do." He muttered, satisfaction in his voice.

He raised his head as he took notice of the remaining demon, frozen on the floor. He glanced around at innocently at the dead bodies. "Apologies for all my demon skewering as of late, but it's your—what is it they call it? ' _Darkest before the dawn'?_ " Labolas went on casually, frowning a bit as he walked over.

The remaining demon scrambled away, frantic to escape but found himself pinned to a wall and cornered. The old demon stood over him a long moment, his stare on cold and unreadable as it took in the other demon's anger and fear. The younger demon braced himself, certain he was about to meet his end.

Labolas turned thoughtful. "This Angel Tablet? Rightfully mine. I have big plans involving Hell and ... as it turns out, you." He revealed, kneeling down by the demon as he eyed him contemplatively. "Give your so-called King a message for me. He isn't part of the _'big picture'_... " His eerie stare turned piercingly intense. "But he _will_ be. All of Hell, all of Earth, even Heaven. Everything will be in _my_ vision. Once I find all I'm looking for ... It will all go according to plan."

* * *

 **A/N;** **I feel so bad rn for what I'm putting all the characters through, especially Buffy. I did warn you lol. Buffy finding out she killed possessed people was _BIG_. One thing I never liked about BtVS was how Buffy was always kept as this "perfect hero" that was sort of protected from ever actually having to kill when nearly everyone else around her has. A guilt arc of Buffy killng with no cop-out is rich with unexplored potential so I'm doing it. :) A lot of these crossovers w/ Buffy also tend to gloss over her killing a demon and a human or how Dean and Sam indiscriminately kill and that's _so_ OCC of her to me that this _had_ to happen**— **and it isn't over either. There will definitely be more friction on the "killing vessels" thing later.**

 **I'm sure everyone had a pretty good idea about Cas lying to Buffy about the scythe (I feel so bad right now...) and finding out about his "betrayal". Poor Cas. None of this is really his fault and everyone's against him now. I hate to stretch out the mind control thing a little longer, but plot. I _love_ the Destiel scene in the actual episode, but I had to cut it out. :/ The Dean and Cas drama will come later. I cut Meg out too, but only so I can use her later. I have plans for her. :)**

 **So, with this chapter, the Buffy/Dean relationship _definitely_ shifted. If this was a normal Buffy/Dean fic, I would've saved their first time for _wayyy_ later. This one tho has Buffy stuck and there's a lot of Buffy vulnerability going around and since Dean _and_ Buffy use sex to forget about their real problems I figured this was perfectly in-character. I hope no one was disappointed. There was still a lot of development. Their relationship changed in more ways than one.**

 **NEXT CHAPTER:** Buffy and Dean deal with the consequences of their night together. Meanwhile, outbreaks of deadly violence completely take over a town in Maine as Labolas finally makes his move ...

 _ **Thanks for the 79 favorites, 132 follows, and 76 reviews! :)**_


	12. Chapter 12: The Happening, Part One

**A/N:** Wow, I haven't updated this fic in so long. College basically took over my whole life. O.O I couldn't find any time to write. I didn't forget this story tho, that's for sure! ;) Anyway, these past few chapters will be heavily plot-related and finally get to Labolas side of this fic. I really did not at _all_ plan to take this long to get to him so sorry about that. :( Some questions though will finally start to be answered. And the Buffy/Dean side of things, things will start to get fun. ;) This is still technically a slow-burn fic—emotionally anyways lol. This story's only about covered a little over two months so far. Ch. 11 though definitely made things a _lot_ more interesting.

To one of guests about making Buffy somewhat weak ... maybe a little, but just with the demons. I wanted to spare Buffy a much larger death count by Ch. 11 and maybe tried too hard. :/ The show has always had inconsistences with Buffy's strength too tho. I will clarify Buffy wasn't actually in any real danger last chapter with the one demon. She would've easily gotten out of it and killed it herself had the brothers not shown up.

 **Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't own Buffy or Supernatural. Whedon and Kripe have the rights. I just really love their characters.**

 _ **Open to constructive criticism/OCCness warnings!**_

* * *

 _The Happening, Part One_

~~Dean~~

Dean woke up slowly. He blinked open his eyes blearily, completely and utterly out of it as he tried to make sense of the things in front of him.

An end table. A clock. His cell phone. A window. He was in a room. A motel room. A _different_ motel room. No Sam.

Then came the headache. The hunter sat up, regretting it instantly as the headache spiked and his body felt like it weighed a ton. Dean sat there a moment, holding his head with a grimace as his slow mental process finally caught up to the fact he was hung-over.

Finally memories of last night broke through ... and he realized it wasn't just the hangover making him slow. Dean glanced over and saw Buffy facing him under the covers, sleeping peacefully with her sex-touseled hair and giving him a pretty ample view of her chest.

A satisfied smirk spread across his face. It was all coming back now ... and had been even better than he imagined.

He almost wondered if it was a dream. After all the times Buffy turned him down, Dean honestly hadn't expected her to be so ... _responsive_. It had been a little of a curveball for him, but god knows he wasn't complaining. He hadn't got any in a while in general, but the time it took for _this_ had been completely worth it.

Dean let his eyes wander a moment, taking in what he could see of her nakedness. He gave a little smile more admiring than smug. _I am one lucky bastard._ He thought appreciatively.

The hunter reached for his phone and found it blown up with texts in the last few hours, all from Sam asking where he was. A bit of half-hearted annoyance stabbed Dean a second at his brother's "momishness" (not that he'd be any better), but dutifully got back to him with a clipped text: _"Just took a night. See you soon."_

Dean looked back at Buffy, still sleeping. It was late. He should really get back to Sam. He didn't know whether to tell her he was going or just leave.

A bit of discomfort crawled up his spine. He usually skipped the spending the night part. He could easily just find his clothes and get out without having to wake her at all ... but was that too much of a dick move?

Finally deciding it was _more_ dickish disturbing her than letting her get some much-needed rest, Dean decided to slip out quietly. He just barely started to get out of bed when Buffy shifted in her sleep, her hand on his arm as she latched onto him. The hunter startled, instinctively going back down as the blonde literally wrapped herself around him. He laid there, trapped.

 _Yep, she's a cuddler._ Dean thought with a grimace.

The hunter stared down at her uncomfortably, beyond knowing what to do. He didn't _do_ cuddling. At least not anymo— ... not in a while.

Blissfully oblivious to his predicament, Buffy nestled into his side. One arm was over his chest as she laid her head on his shoulder, still deep in slumber. Dean wavered, affected despite himself. She just looked so peaceful. Seeing her like this—the serene innocence of it—made him more aware of how beautiful she was.

 _Sammy can wait. Nothing wrong with a few more hours._ He decided. He couldn't necessarily go anywhere at this point without waking her ... and if he was ever _really_ honest with himself, he didn't even want to leave yet. This ... It was almost ... nice.

The Winchester finally responded, wounding his arm around Buffy gently and holding her close. His unsure expression lingered until at last he gave a fragile smile and rested his chin on the top of her head.

The cuddling stuff still _really_ wasn't his thing ... but maybe he could be spontaneous just this once.

* * *

~~Buffy~~

Consciousness started to stir in the slayer, but she didn't move. The deep, rising and falling of her pillow and the warmth around her sent her into a relaxed lull she didn't dare want to break. Buffy instinctively tightened her hold, a drowsy little smile on her face as settled herself comfortably ... and then she remembered pillows didn't breathe.

The blonde opened her eyes, waking with a bit of start. A bare-chested, _very_ naked Dean laid beneath her, sleeping sounding with one arm keeping her tethered to him. After the initial shock of seeing him, it _all_ came back. Last night. Dean. Distraction. Escape. Sex. With Dean.

 _I didn't know he'd still be here ..._ Buffy thought, self-conscious. He _shouldn't_ be here. He should be out of sight so she could pretend for a little while she hadn't actually did this and it was all just a _really_ intense dream ... but she had sort of already stopped operating on _'shoulds'_ by now, hasn't she?

The slayer felt strange. It had been so long since she woke up with someone and even longer since that someone was _warm_. It was so foreign to her she didn't even know what to do with it ... but maybe not thinking and letting herself enjoy the moment was a good start. She forced herself to relax and cuddled into him. A soft smile touched her face.

She was glad Dean wasn't gone. Her nasally voice of reason said different (more of a low murmur right now, but there), but she was relieved. It was nice to take comfort in someone and have at least a fleeting moment of companionship before reality was there to ruin it. After a very long time, she wasn't alone.

Nothing about last night had been serious. Just casual fun and god after _everything_ Buffy had been through yesterday—the last three _years_ —it had been the most amazing thing. She had no illusions, no guilt of turning Dean evil or using someone who loved her. All her heavy stuff for the first time could truly melt away. She loved that simplicity.

The blonde slayer ran her hand over his chest, watching him sleep. It was strange to see him without some kind of guarded or defensive look in his eye ... but she decided it was a good kind of strange. He didn't feel so far away. Like she could actually get close. It was nice to see him look like a person for once.

Realizing she was absent-mindedly tracing his tattoo, Buffy's gaze shifted downward. Bad memories from what it represented were triggered and her face fell, the sting of pain jutting through. _If only the people I killed had this._

Suddenly Dean moved. The slayer instantly snapped out of it, raising her head with wide eyes as her heartbeat quickened.

The hunter was rousing now. He cracked open his eyes. "Morning, gorgeous." Dean said automatically.

Buffy instinctively drew back, sitting up in bed and self-consciously (pointlessly) pulling up the sheet to cover herself. "Um ... hi." She responded lamely, acutely and painfully aware of the situation as she couldn't entirely meet his eyes.

Dean gave her an amused look. "Hi yourself."

An awkward moment passed ... and by awkward she meant her sitting there tongue-tied watching Dean be relatively unfazed.

The hunter stretched and gave a loud, relaxing sigh. "Y'know, crummy mattress or not ... That was the best sleep I've had in a while." He said casually as he started to sit up.

Buffy forced herself to relax. _Right. I need to remember who I'm dealing with._ The slayer plastered on a smile. "Me too."

Dean looked at her, then gave a little smirk. "Well, that's what I was shooting for."

The slayer's mind froze, the innuendo-laced words triggering flashbacks and making her all the more self-conscious. Buffy laughed nervously and shook her head. "Uh ... what exactly _happened_?"

"A hell of a good time."

 _That's one way to put it._ Buffy thought awkwardly. "It was ... something." She answered coyly.

The Winchester's gaze intensified. "I think it deserves a little more than that." He said smoothly, shifting closer as he smirked at her.

The blonde slayer leaned into him. "Y'know, I would, but I think your ego's big enough for the both of us." She responded playfully, the two of them moving closer and closer until their lips met. They sat there a moment, kissing sweetly and gently.

"I knew there was a wild side in Little Miss Repression somewhere." Dean said with a bit of pride, their faces still close as he smiled.

Buffy looked at him in mock offense. "Gee, thanks."

"Great thing about prude chicks. Keep it all bottled in for so long ... Eventually they just ... _release_." The hunter declared, look dripping with innuendo as his hand started to caress her thigh.

The blonde's breath hitched, still hypersensitive to Dean's touch. When she realized what he said, she scrunched up her face at him. "I'm not a prude." She whined, pouting. Was he saying she was boring?

"Well, not in the bedroom maybe. Everything else ... 100% pure, preserved, all-to-the nines _prude_." Even though Dean's tone was meaningful, his smile was teasing.

 _Now_ she was getting a little offended. "I know this isn't in your vocabulary ... but the _technical_ term is called 'class'."

"You got that too. No question." The Winchester answered easily, tilting his head in agreement. At the slayer's still bothered look, he smiled more softly. "Relax. Yeah, you're a prude but you're a cute prude. Two worlds collide." He said in amusement.

Buffy still tried to be miffed, but under his affectionate look she couldn't help but melt a little. She smiled. "Well, it beats all that Anglo-Saxon charm of yours. Totally ruins the mystery." She poked fun.

Dean smirked. "Is that right?" He played along, lowering his head down to hers.

"No shock value. None ... at ... all." The blonde teased, gazing into his eyes.

And with that, they fell into another kiss. It started out soft like the first, then became more passionate. Buffy held on tightly to his head as Dean found her sides, squeezing them and the setting the spark aflame. The slayer rolled on top of him with a moan. The hunter's arms were around her, caressing her back and shoulders as they kissed madly.

Suddenly conscious of the fact there was nothing separating them but a flimsy sheet, Buffy came back to herself. "This was a bad idea." She said in laugh, pulling away.

"Those are the fun ones." Dean quipped.

The slayer smiled despite herself. "Yeah. Yeah, fun was had ... and it's been a while since I said that. I guess I really did need it." She didn't want to admit it. She wanted this to be nothing more than a mistake, but it was true. After the horror show that had literally become her life, this was the only relief she's had in three years.

"Well, that's what I'm here for. Taking your cares away one dose of mind-blowing sex at a time."

Buffy blushed, acutely conscious of her ... _satisfaction_. "Don't get too excited. I still always manage to pencil in a little 'Sulk-N-Fret' time. It's in my DNA."

"Yeah, you're a worrywart." Dean looked thoughtful a moment before turning to her with a suggestive smirk. "I guess that means I just need to ' _try'_ some more."

Amusement bubbled in the slayer. She gave a shake of her head. "It's not gonna work."

Dean's lips were on before she even knew what was happening, pulling her to him in an intense kiss that discombobulated all thought. Buffy instinctively responded, a thrill going through her as she wrapped herself around him. Little moans escaped her through their mouths and tongues, feeling the heat. Dean rolled them over so he was on top, giving it his all.

She didn't know how long they were like that, but this time Dean was the one to pull away. "Joking aside ..." He started, catching his breath. "You really do need to quit the tight-ass routine."

That got Buffy out of the mood _real_ quick. "My what?" She said, insulted.

"You're way too hard on yourself." The look in Dean's eyes was actually serious. "I mean, I get it. You're a ... You're a worker bee. You're used to batting a thousand. But if that's all you ever do, then you're just making the job ten times harder. You don't ever let yourself catch a break. That's your problem."

 _Did I just sleep with a male Faith?_ Buffy thought in disbelief.

"My _problem_?" The blonde was even more annoyed. "You barely know me."

Dean was unruffled. "I know you well enough." Buffy shot daggers at him, but the hunter merely shrugged. "I'm just saying—"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "You're _always_ 'just sayin' _._ " She muttered.

Dean gave her an irritated look for the barb, but otherwise continued. "If you're going to be going through a steaming pile of crap, try to make the most of it. Have some _fun_ once and a while. It ain't gonna kill you."

 _Fun?_ Buffy inwardly groaned. _I_ did _. I did sleep with a he-Faith._ She thought, sharp with cynicism and more than a little disturbed.

Dean was waiting for an answer. So she gave him one. "Hey. Somehow I slept with you. I didn't think. Relish that little bit of spontaneity." Buffy said, giving him a meaningful look.

Dean looked amused. "It's sex. You're not supposed to think."

 _Well in_ my _case ..._ Buffy couldn't help but think, rolling her eyes as she thought back to all the times things like this got her in trouble.

"Anyway. If that was you being spontaneous ... then maybe we should make it last a little longer." His gaze raked down her, meaning in his eyes

There was no secret to what he was thinking about. Nervousness bubbled in the slayer the same time desire flared through her. _No._ Buffy told herself, fighting temptation. Dean might be gorgeous and the sex might've been amazing ... but once was enough.

Dean started to zero in on her and Buffy panicked. "What time is it?" She blurted out.

The hunter barely paused, giving a quick glance at the clock. "About eight-thirty." He said absently, no further preamble as he kissed her deeply.

The blonde whined mentally even as her body responded, her hands to his face as she sunk into his lips. Dean soon traced kisses down her neck to collarbone. Buffy moaned at the sensation, struggling to pull her head up from the sea of lust she was drowning in.

 _No, no, no._ Her voice of common sense ricocheted through her brain again. " ... It's late. You should really get back to Sam." The slayer managed between pants.

Dean stilled. With equal parts relief and disappointment, she watched him finally pull away. He looked at her a moment, considering, then shook his head. "Nah. We don't have to head back to the bunker yet. We got time."

Buffy didn't know what to make of that. "I really think—" She started uncertainly.

" _Don't_ think, remember?" The Winchester teased, giving her an affectionate half-smile.

Before the slayer could tell him all the things wrong with that philosophy, Dean closed the distance between them once again. His hand tangled into her hair, kissing with such passion like he was trying to kiss away all her doubts.

 _God, this guy's such a slave to his libido._ Buffy thought in frustration. She might have bit off more than she could chew here. But as she let him deepen the kiss and felt her hands clutch at his shoulders, pressing herself against him ... apparently he wasn't the only one.

The danger bells ringing in the back of her mind muted. Everything Dean just felt _way_ too good. The blonde slayer finally broke away for air, staring up at him. "You really are my bad idea." She muttered in defeat.

The hunter gave a little smirk and shrugged. "I've been called worse."

Buffy smiled affectionately, running her hand down his face before she kissed him gently. She felt him respond and the kiss intensified, wrapped around each other like the other's human blanket. Dean moved the sheet between them out of the way and shifted a bit, getting himself into position.

Buffy knew what this was. Dean cared for her. Maybe he even did like her in his own way. But it wasn't anything more than _this_ and for once that was okay. It was easier without him getting too attached. Kept that last strand of simple she could onto. She just couldn't afford that for her situation ... or for her heart.

A sharp, short gasp escaped the slayer as she felt Dean push inside her. The last conscious thought Buffy had as the extended intermission from their equally crappy lives commenced was that this was the last time. Buffy and casual sex breeds not-so-casual emotional involvement. She didn't want to fall for Dean ... and she knew herself too well to know what a friends-with-benefits thing would cause.

But just for now? What harm could _that_ do?

* * *

~~Dean~~

 _**Later ...**_

Dean, wearing the same outfit from yesterday and slightly disheveled, entered his motel room with a bag of fast food. Sam was sitting in the arm-chair, staring into space in the direction of the TV and looking pensive.

The older hunter spared a quick glance at what was on and almost chuckled. " _America's Next Top Model_?" He said in amusement.

His brother snapped out of his thoughts, startling as he finally noticed him. "Dean."

Dean shook his head, smirking as he walked in. "Y'know, you could probably bring it all home. That perfectly moisturized, silky smooth do you got would beat all those hot models and the cats on their head in a _landside_." He joked.

"Dude, where the hell you've been this whole time?" Sam demanded.

Dean shrugged him off. "I was getting us breakfast."

" _Breakfast?"_ Sam's eyes were two incredulous moons. "Dean, it's twelve o'clock in the afternoon."

The older Winchester's brow immediately furrowed. "What're you talking about? It's ten. I just got it!"

His brother rummaged through the bag. "The food's cold, Dean." His little brother pointed out, holding up a burrito.

Dean paused and slowly checked his phone for the time. Sure enough it was twelve. Realization hit. He had gotten breakfast for them and stopped by Buffy's first to drop hers off and then ... well ... "I may have, uh, ... made a pit stop." He admitted awkwardly, putting his phone in his pocket.

The pit stop being Buffy and sex. Lots and lots of sex.

"For _two_ hours?"

Dean felt more self-conscious. "Eat your food." He said in a stern tone, turning away.

"Dean, I've been trying to reach you all day. You can't just—" His brother broke off mid-lecture, finally noticing his outfit and the mussed hair. Sam smiled thinly and nodded. "Right. Of course."

Dean snatched the bag from his hand. "Well, you know what they say, Sammy. Time flies when you're having fun." He responded with a smirk. "So you hear anything from Kevin yet?" He asked as he unwrapped a burrito, biting into it. It wasn't warm, but hell if he cared.

"Uh, no. I called, but he's not picking up."

"Well, we should check up on him. Maybe he's on to something."

Sam nodded, looking at him curiously.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's nothing. It's just ... a whole night _and_ morning, Dean? With some girl? When's the last time you did that?" Sam said in disbelief.

 _Been a while._ The hunter thought. "Well, let's just say she was a special girl."

"Guess so." His little brother scoffed. Some of the amusement drained out of Sam and he sighed. "Speaking of girls ... I'm a little worried about Buffy. She hasn't gotten back with me either. I get it, she probably thinks she needs space and I tried but honestly that's really not what she needs."

The older hunter paused, flashing back to the pain in the slayer's eyes yesterday. He shook the memory off. "It's the _last_ thing she needs." He agreed grimly.

Sam was apologetic. "I should've stayed with her. Yesterday was ... was pretty rough. She shouldn't have been alone last night."

Dean hesitated. It wasn't necessarily a big deal he slept with Buffy. He knew Sam had a crush on her, but that wasn't the problem. His little brother had other, bigger issues for him pulling that. There was also a part of Dean ... deep down ... that for some reason wanted to keep it between him and her.

More bothered by that uncharacteristic feeling than a Sam lecture, he fessed up. "She was _not_ alone last night."

The younger Winchester froze at Dean's meaningful expression, wearing a complete deer in the headlights look. He shook his head a little, speechless and questioning him with his eyes. Dean gave him a guilty look and immediately busied himself with his burrito.

"Dean ... you didn't."

Dean stood there awkwardly, then every wonderful and arousing thing they they did flooded over him all at once and he smiled wistfully. He snapped out of it and glanced back at Sam. "I'm weak." He said simply.

" _Dude_ —"

"No, no, no. Don't give me that judgy, goody-goody crap. I was backing off. She's the one that crossed that line first, not me." Dean replied defensively. "It just—She was upset and we hanged and it happened, alright? I didn't plan that." At Sam's unsatisfied expression, he heaved a sigh. "I was just trying to make Buffy feel _better_ , alright? Y'know, _comfort._ Not my fault she wanted the full flesh-to-flesh experience."

"Well, you didn't exactly say no."

Dean flashed him a look. "I was being respectful, not insane." He didn't think there was a man in existence that could resist a woman like Buffy coming to you. It was like a waving a piece of meat in front of a lion and expecting it not to eat it. She was too damn hot.

Sam still looked disapproving. Dean gave him one last firm stare. "Hey. She needed it. As far as I'm concerned, I did my good deed." He turned back to his breakfast burrito and nonchalantly chowed back down.

His brother sighed. "At least now it's out of your system."

Dean paused mid-bite, staring at Sam. "What?" He said innocently.

"I mean, it's _out of the way_. You did it and now it's done, for good. It won't happen again."

Instinctive protest bubbled up in the hunter. Dean played it cool."... Yeah. One-time thing. Not gonna happen again."

He didn't sound particularly convincing to himself, let alone Sam. His little brother burned him with a stern, admonishing look and Dean was forced to sober. " ... She doesn't like me, y'know. Buffy." He began, looking over at him. "It was just blowing off steam."

"But you can't give her the chance. Not if she's got somewhere to go back to." Sam was serious. "We're not here to hurt her, Dean. She's already been through enough."

Dean paused. He didn't know what he'd do if she got attached. He was a lost cause anyway as far as relationships went, but after swearing to help send her back he'd feel horrible putting her in that position. He didn't want to hurt her anymore than he had, involving Cas and not telling her about the demons. After yesterday ... more than ever he hated to see her suffer.

 _Good thing I'm not her type._

A few moments passed. The tension between him and Sam started to ease up.

" ... How is she?" Sam asked quietly.

"No better than you can expect her to be. Miserable. And she's not gonna over it, especially those people she killed." Dean remarked, matter-of-fact. "She's gonna have to work through it though if she's ever gonna get out of here."

His brother nodded sympathetically. "She thought she had a way home and it was ripped away just like that. I can't even imagine how that feels."

"Yeah, no thanks to us." Dean said, thinking back to trusting Cas. Frustration surged, throwing the burrito wrapper in the bag. "We gotta find out what those angels want from her. They're right in the middle of this."

"You really think one of them brought Buffy here all along?"

"I don't _think_. I _know_." The older Winchester answered curtly. He shook his head in disgust. "So like every one of those winged dicks, thinking they can just screw with people's lives." He grumbled. Noticing Sam's suddenly intent look, Dean turned cautious. "What?"

" ... Are we gonna talk about it?"

The pointed tone in Sam's voice was all the other hunter needed for elaboration.

"What's there to talk about?" Dean deflected. His little brother just had to give him one look and Dean predictably boiled over. "Cas _lied_ to us, okay? Cut us all out and left us another mess to clean up. He's a douche."

"We both know it's not that simple, Dean."

"Well, I'm _making_ it that simple." Dean rounded on him angrily. "He didn't trust us. He _lied_ to us, for months, and now he yanked Buffy's chain too. Screw Cas!" He held his glare on Sam, shaking his head. "He made his choice. We don't need to give a damn _what_ he does."

"Dean ..." Sam said his name in a sigh, weary. "I'm pissed too. What he did to Buffy ... There's no excuse. But ... it's still _Cas_ , Dean." His brother's brow furrowed at him, deeply conflicted. "I-I mean, he had to have a _reason_ , right? Like with the Angel Tablet? He wouldn't just—"

Dean had just about as much as he could take. "Look, just forget about Cas, alright?! Out of sight, out of mind. It's _over_ with! We got other problems." The older hunter snapped. What if Cas _did_ have a reason? That still wouldn't make any of this right ... lying to them, to _her_ ... so why was _he_ gonna care?

Sam looked disappointed. Dean pointedly turned his back on him and continued eating, shoving down his anger and hurt feelings.

Out of sight, out of mind.

 ** _####_**

Sam didn't mention Cas again after that. They finished eating and went back to trying to contact Kevin who still wasn't answering. Maybe he was busy translating again. Though he could admit he favored looking for another case, Dean figured it was better to visit him first. The hunter just longed for another distraction. He already got his fill of sex and booze (well, maybe not booze ...). Now it was time to hunt.

It wasn't long before there was a knock. Dean smiled in pleasant recognition as Buffy came barging in, a serious and hard set to her features.

"Uh, hey." Sam said carefully, taking in her look. "Everything okay?"

The slayer's eyes locked with Dean's, holding it there briefly, then turned to Sam. "I've been thinking a lot about last night ..." The slayer crossed her arms and surveyed them meaningfully. " ... and I think I finally know why I'm here."

Dean and Sam exchanged a glance, both already knowing the answer, but waited.

Buffy was grim. "Angels. They did it. They even risked a little reality tear just to bring me here and why? Because I'm important. Because they _need_ something from me." The blonde declared with certainty.

 _There it was._

At least neither of one of them had to tell her. She figured it out all by herself.

Sam gave a soft sigh and nodded. " ... Yeah. Definitely them."

"Sam and I have been doing some thinking too." Dean started, serious. "Angels ... they're just the kind of cold-hearted bastards to pull this. It's always them, ninety-nine percent of the time. I mean, we've lived it. You're just Project Number Ten Billion."

The slayer clearly didn't want it confirmed. She gave a tight smile. "Well, I called it. Use me or kill me." Buffy sighed and sat on the bed. "I can't believe _your_ version of the PTB roped me into this."

A mingled mix of guilt and pity mixed together in Dean. "They're dicks. Whatever excuse those angels are pulling out of their ass ... you deserved better."

The blonde looked deep in thought. "Just another megalomaniac higher power. Doesn't matter." She stood up and faced them with a hard, sober look. "I need to track one down."

Her off-hand dismissal caught Dean by a surprise a bit. Just what had she been through before with _her_ heavenly power? He was so damn fascinated by this woman, but then he registered the last part. He frowned. "Track ...? You mean an _angel_?"

"I need _answers_. If they're the reason I'm here, then I _have_ to find out why." Buffy asserted.

Dean gauged her warily. " ... You looking for Cas?" His tone was tenser than he liked.

Buffy stared back, stone-faced. "He's probably the best bet ... but it's an open angel space. They're _all_ behind this."

The older Winchester tried to his hide his reaction, discontent churning through him. He honestly didn't want Castiel anywhere _near_ Buffy after that stunt just for him to lie some more ... or around _him and Sam_ for that matter.

The blonde slayer turned to the both brothers. "I was hoping you guys know a way I can find them."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. Dean turned to her with a shrug. "Pray?" He joked.

"Oh, well that makes sense ..." The slayer glared at him.

Sam shook his head, looking a bit at a loss. "Angels don't usually leave a trail unless it's bodies. I guess that's a way to start."

"You don't know anything? Like a maybe special angel locator spell?" Buffy pressed.

Dean gave a reproving shake of his head. "We ain't witches. And it's not like we got Heaven on speed dial to chat and make nice." He pointed out. "Best bet? Treat it like a hunt. You'll find one, sooner or later."

"Maybe I can go by clothes. Trench coat and nicely-dressed. Angel dead-ahead!" There was a pang behind her eyes briefly, as if the quip unexpectedly stirred something buried. "So I guess I'm going angel-hunting ... A sentence I'd never thought I'd say."

"Just keep to the playbook. Angels ... they aren't demons." Dean warned. He knew how inexperienced she still was in fighting angels.

Buffy gauged him with an unimpressed eye. "Thanks for the Sunday school lesson, padre." She said flatly. "I'm gonna find one and beat an explanation out. Maybe even throttle out a way back while I'm at it."

 _God this chick is so my type._ Dean stared at her admiringly. "I like your style."

Sam, however, seemed a bit uneasy. He hesitated. "Angels have vessels. It'd ... take a lot for one of them to tell you what you're after."

It was both a warning and a question and Dean read it right away. Weariness and discomfort mingled together and the older hunter almost sighed. That had been there for him too of course, in the back of his mind. He didn't know whether he was glad Sam was brave enough to do it or that he wished he didn't say anything.

"Sam, let's not go there." Dean said, painfully conscious of Buffy as he gave her a careful look.

Exhaustion beyond her years stared back at him. " ... I'm not gonna kill them." Dark pain flashed in her eyes and her tone was tired, but there was still unquestionable finality. "I didn't forget ... and it's not gonna happen. I'll find out what I need without killing _anyone_."

 _Kinda hard. I mean, if you're gonna get anything out of these angels, you're gonna have to get down and dirty._

But for once the brutal realism Dean was so famous for wouldn't spill from his lips. Her broken and grief-stricken face after killing the demons was still burned in his mind. Right now Buffy looked so stubborn, so desperate to believe her own words, how could he say otherwise? She couldn't handle the truth. Not right now.

Doubts reflected in Sam's eyes, indicating they had an identical train of thought, but he merely nodded. " _'Course_." He said quietly.

To cover up the tension, Dean made a show of being nonchalant. He shrugged. "Okay, so we come with. Me and Sammy know a thing or two about wringing out some angel-intel."

Buffy sighed. "You're not killing anyone either ..." At the hunter's surprised look, her expression turned meaningful. "I know what you're trying to do. _Don't_."

Dean stared, still surprised. He sobered. "... We're just trying to send you _back_."

"It's not by killing. God, I ... I've had _enough_ of killing as I can take." Pain and guilt were in Buffy's eyes, but they still blazed with resolve. "I'm gonna track down an angel. I'm gonna find out what's going on and then I'm gonna find a way out of this place without having to kill anyone else."

Dean barely had a moment to register the flintily determined words before the slayer spun and left the room.

He shook his head. "Man, I do _not_ know what to do with this chick." He muttered, rubbing his temple.

"Buffy's different than us, Dean." Sam cast a sympathetic glance towards the door. "She won't be able to handle it if she kills another person."

"She's gonna wind up getting herself killed."

His little brother looked worried. He shrugged helplessly. "It's her choice, Dean, her way home. We can't say anything, not now."

Dean didn't reply. Unease brewed in him. If Buffy insisted on no killing, then how was she ever going to survive long enough to even go back to her world? If she kept facing angels and demons without killing them ... Frustration at his quandary lanced through Dean. He had sworn to send her back home no matter what it took, but why did she have to make the simple task of even keeping her _alive_ long enough to get there difficult?

The older Winchester really had no idea at what point he started to worry about this frustrating and wayward female hunter, but he had gotten quite good at it.

 _ **####**_

After a movie and some basic cable, it wasn't long before the restless Winchesters were ready to be on the move again. Dean was double-checking everything they had on them and packing up their duffel. He glanced over at Sam, who was sitting on the bed surfing the channels to find the news, and a flicker of impatience sparked in him.

"Come on. We gotta go see Kevin." Dean prompted, slinging the duffel on his shoulder as he walked over.

His brother didn't respond, eyes glued to TV and extremely tense. The older Winchester followed his gaze. The minute he actually bothered to pay attention, his whole body stiffened. It felt as if a rock had dropped in his stomach as he saw exactly what had caught his brother's attention ...

 _"Portlands's sudden frenzy of unexplained violence from civilians continue through week. With already twenty-five dead and thirty more injured, Maine authorities are trying to contain the situation and suggest everyone else to stay clear of the city_ —"

Sam shut off the TV, even more sober than before and glanced at Dean. "Dean ..."

The older Winchester didn't need to say more. He already knew. "Looks like the case came to us." He commented.

Dean wished he could say he was relieved. That he found a case to get his mind off all this other crap and do what he did best, but something was different. He had a twisted feeling in this gut, like something was wrong. This new case ... that wasn't possible though, was it ...?

Sam read his thoughts. "Deja vu?" He said in resignation.

The older hunter pursed his lips, feeling another rush of unease. "God, I hope not." Dean replied grimly.

There wasn't any further time wasted on research. The Winchesters' gut feeling and with how fast this strange violence was escalating urged them to leave and get on the road as soon as possible. Kevin could wait. Dean ignored that little voice in his head telling him what this might be. He didn't want to acknowledge it yet, not until he got there. As Sam and Dean were bustling out, they met up with Buffy in the hall just as she was coming out of her room.

"What's going on?" She asked, noticing their tension.

They explained what was on the news. Dean watched the slayer's expression darken. "That could get worse fast ..." She observed.

"Yeah, not on our watch." The older Winchester said automatically. Shoving down his immediate discontent at his next words, Dean nodded at her. "You keep at it with the halo-tracking. We'll meet back here."

Buffy hesitated, having a look on her that she didn't quite like that idea almost as much as he didn't, but just as she opened her mouth Dean was walking away.

The older hunter didn't want to give himself the chance to change his mind. He really didn't like the slayer hunting down angels if she wasn't going to kill, especially without him and Sam, but ... if this case turned out to be what he thought it was, maybe she'd be better off.

* * *

~~Sam~~

Sam lingered in the hall, glancing at Buffy who was watching Dean go with a frown on her face. "You don't have to go with us." He told her, reading her thoughts.

The blonde stared at him uncertainly. "It sounds bad ... You're gonna need help."

"Whatever it is, I'm sure we've seen it before." The hunter ignored the twitch of unease his own words triggered. Maybe seeing it before was the problem. "Me and Dean can handle it. You might have to go through the angels if you're gonna ever find your friends."

Buffy hesitated. She seemed torn. " ... _You're_ my friends too." She reminded him, giving him a meaningful look. The slayer rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "My secretive, morally questionable friends that are all _'kill-first-ask-questions-later'_ , but I guess I'm not that picky." There was an edge of bitterness to her dry tone.

Instantly Sam felt guilty. " ... We should've told you about demons taking vessels. We didn't know, but ... we should've."

Buffy didn't answer and just averted her eyes, an unreadable look on her face.

Sam felt compelled to continue. "Earlier, ..." He hesitated, eying her uncertainly. "When you said you weren't going to kill any angels even to find a way home ... I understood. Believe it or not, I ... I _get_ it. Me and Dean, we're a different story. We _had_ to be. But you ... you're better than us. I respect that, a lot, and don't ever lose that. Even in being stuck here."

Every word tore out of Sam with sincerity. The Winchester had so much respect and sympathy for this young woman and wouldn't ever wish on her all the guilt and collateral damage he and his brother caused. It was too easy to go the wrong way, yet here she was still clinging to her morals. Sam had been her too once, when he was younger and before everything got so bad. It hurt to think about his more innocent days, but there was still hope for Buffy. She could be saved _their_ regrets, especially when he could tell by her eyes she already had too many of her own.

Emotion glistened in Buffy's eyes. She stared at him almost desperately, looking grateful and overwhelmed and bleak all at the same time.

Sympathy rushed over Sam. The change from corporal demons in her world to the demons here plus angels had to be crushing. "You'll figure it out. I think it'll work, your plan with the angels. If you keep trying to find a way not to kill, then you will." He told her with as much reassurance as he could muster.

Sam had his doubts. Like Dean he couldn't but think trying to get information they didn't want give from powerful angels and not having to kill was near-impossible, but he was choosing to be optimistic. It wasn't his place to tell her otherwise anyway. He respected her too much for that.

The younger Winchester nodded at her, still projecting encouragement, before he finally left after Dean.

* * *

~~Dean~~

Dean was hunched over the trunk of his car, eyes skittering over his stash of weapons and hunting defenses. Holy water, bullets, sharpened knives and blades. Needing to make sure they were prepared because he sure as hell wasn't stepping one-foot in that nuke town without it.

He pulled out a shotgun and checked the casings. A grim feeling in his gut told him he was going to use it.

"Getting what's going to kill it?"

The Winchester glanced back. Buffy was suddenly peering over his shoulder, a look of fascination on her face as she eyed the contents of his trunk.

"Don't know yet." Dean answered which is true. He didn't know. Even if everything looked like it was adding up to it ... "I'm just double-checking. You don't jump into an _Omega Man_ movie without playing the field."

"Which one?" The slayer asked innocently.

The hunter actually smiled a bit at that. They had the same sense of humor. "1971. Chuck Heston. _Classic_." He joked, turning to her.

Buffy looked both amused and satisfied by that answer. "I'm going with you guys." Just as Dean opened his mouth, the blonde's stare turned stern. "Everyone in Portland's going rabid and killing. Twenty people are already dead. You need me to go."

Dean was instinctively defensive. He narrowed his eyes at her. " ... Y'know, we've been handling things like this a _long_ time without you." He said, an edge to his voice.

"And you never let me forgot it." She gave him a pointed look. "Put your gun away, John Wayne. This is a red flag of 'People-are-dying-and-slayer-takes-the-wheel'. I can't just turn that off ... remember?"

He eyed her. "Well, maybe sometimes you should." Dean said carefully. He pinned her with a meaningful look. "What about the angels? And hey. _Not_ a fan. But if you _really_ think clipping their wings is gonna get you anywhere ... shouldn't you be doing that?"

The words were frank and honest and he wanted to bite it back. _'Not a fan'_ was an understatement, but he didn't think this was the right case for her. At the same time Dean felt guilty. All this woman did was wedge herself into their every problem, every hunt, to help _them_ when she had a _little_ _sister_ and friends waiting for her and that just felt ... wrong. It felt more wrong than it even should somehow.

Buffy crossed her arms and gave him a tired look. "And with what trail? Molty feathers?"

Cas popped into Dean's mind. He remembered in a second and was pissed off all over again. _No,_ _ **Cas** stays the hell away from her. Away from **us**_. "Bodies. Angels kill, just like anything else." He reminded her. This tone was gruffer than normal, furious with himself.

The blonde slayer gave a resigned sigh. "This is more important. A lot of people are dying. I can still check angel trails on the side. And besides ..." Buffy shifted, and Dean was suddenly aware of how she drained she looked. "After everything ... all that matters is that I help someone." She mumbled.

Dean stared at her. For the first time he wondered if this was more than the usual times of just being a slayer or helping them. That she was looking for some kind of "redemption" for killing those vessels. Maybe she needed this to deal with her guilt?

Compassion ignited in Dean. If there was anything he _could_ understand, it was definitely that.

" ... Alright." He agreed at last, his voice taking on a softer tone he certainly didn't recognize but went with all the same. "But _hey_. You ever wanna bail on our ass and just GPS those winged dicks, you go ahead and do it. We're not trying to leech off you."

Buffy frowned. "You're not ... leech-y." A more upset look entered her eyes and she looked down. "You and your brother have done so much trying to help me since I ended up here. I'm the one that's ... trouble. Sucking-the-life-out-of-you-leechy' trouble."

Dean scoffed. "Me and Sam have known trouble since we were in feety pajamas. Capital 'T' Trouble." He began in amusement, closing the turn. He turned, regarding her. "You, you're ... you're Meddle Queen. Miss Nicey-Nice. A fun night and a _verry_ pleasant distraction ..." Dean gave her an appreciative smile. "Doesn't sound like trouble in my book."

" ... Funny. You're actually a nice guy." Buffy commented.

" _'Course!"_ Dean responded, mock-offended. He smirked."And maybe once this whole thing with Berserker Town blows over, I can be a whole lot more than nice." The Winchester said smoothly, giving a suggestive look.

A voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Sam was telling him to rethink this, but Dean just couldn't quite care. He knew exactly what he was doing and it was nothing he hadn't done before. Buffy was beautiful and funny and fun, not to mention great in bed ... why would she just be a one-timer?

To the Winchester's surprise, unease was suddenly on Buffy's face.

"Dean ... about last night ..." She began uncomfortably, hesitant.

Dean froze. He recognized that line. ' _About last night'_ meant relationship talk. Wait, she _actually_ felt like they had to talk about it?

Nervousness awakened in the hunter. For first time he wondered if this had been a bad idea. Maybe Sam had been onto something about Buffy after all ...

"It was just a thing. I was upset and high on the _needy_ and you were ... there. It didn't mean anything."

No sooner was the hunter wrestling with the instinctive urge to bolt did Buffy's swift and firm rejection check him. Dean stared, immediate relief tainted by a bit of bemusement as he took in how firm she sounded. Did she think _he_ of all people needed to hear this?

Dean nodded. "Took the words right outta my mouth." He replied casually.

Buffy looked startled. She narrowed her eyes at him a second, then nodded. "Right. Dean Winchester and his conquests. Another pretty girl, another notch on his belt." She seemed suddenly annoyed.

Dea was confused. Weren't they on the same page? "We were both having a crap night yesterday, okay? So we had a little fun." He shook his head. "Listen, you don't have to pull that—that _'talk'_ thing, not with me. I'm not strings guy." He reassured.

Buffy stared. A pout formed on her face. " ... _Habit_." She admitted, sullen.

The hunter chuckled. "Yeah, I bet." He gave her an admiring look.

A few moments of uncomfortable silence passed. Dean shrugged awkwardly. "I mean ... it's just sex. Why we gotta complicate it?" He sounded like an emotionally stunted jackass, but wasn't that a good thing in this situation? Apparently she was used to attracting soppy Stage 5 clingers.

Buffy watched him with a unreadable look. Finally she nodded. "Exactly." Deep meaning was in her voice. The blonde slayer paused, a hesitant look on her face. She sighed. "It's not gonna happen again."

Surprise washed over Dean, along with immediate disappointment. Already? "Ah, don't say that. I still got a few more rounds reserved ..." He flirted.

There was a hint of regret in her eyes. "Dean ..." Buffy seemed to be searching for words. " ... Thank you. For _everything_. But one time was—"

Dean smirked. "A lot more than once in that time ..."

"But _that_ was enough." A certain stern look was in Buffy's eyes now as she regarded the older hunter. "I'm sorry. No more ... _'fun'_. Please."

Dean stared, realizing how serious she was. He respectfully backed down. "Well, hey. You ever change your mind, I'll clear out my schedule." He promised, earnest despite the flirtation.

"Believe me, I _won't_."

Dean blinked, taken aback by the sudden hardness in her voice. Sex with him couldn't be _that_ bad, could it? No. No, it _definitely_ wasn't _..._ so why the attitude? The hunter was surprised to realize he even actually felt a little hurt by it and that he _really_ didn't get.

Perhaps thankfully, Sam was making his way to them after finishing a few loose ends with the motel service. Dean explained to him Buffy was coming with them. This brother had raised the same reservations over her going as he had, but the reasoning of 'three hunters were better than one' eventually sold him.

Buffy still seemed tense. "A slice of _28 Days Later_? Particularly with my warm fuzzies right now." She said meaningfully.

Dean glanced at her, but the blonde slayer was already turning to get in the car. Their conversation flooded his mind. He just shook his head. _Weird._

 _ **####**_

On the drive to Portland, there was another violent attack. It had gone public again, no explanation, this time at a mall with at least four killed and three injured. The mall was closed off, swarmed with police and feds to keep people out. Dean, Buffy, and Sam dressed in their FBI outfits managed to gain access. The three of them stood outside the scene of crime—a small clothes store. Yellow quarantine tape surrounded it and the hunter noticed the white-clad clothing of the CDC. The knot of unease in Dean tightened, compressing and constricting.

 _Great..._

"And the forces of darkness just _had_ to drag the mall and a quaint little shop in this, didn't they? " Buffy shook her head.

Too tightly wound to even snort at that remark, Dean just made his way over. As soon as the three of them crossed the yellow tape, they were stopped by a very tall and imposing marshall. "Whoa, whoa, hold on! This place's under quarantine. No more people allowed than there is."

"Oh, _believe us_ , it's necessary." Dean responded, showing his badge.

"Our bosses wanted us here for any updates. Direct orders." Sam carried on evenly. "Just here to make sure nothing's getting ... out of control." The younger Winchester glanced around cautiously, taking notice of the broken tables and demolished racks along with twisted-up mannequins.

The marshall narrowed his eyes, wary and contemplative. Activity still bustled in the back behind him, FBI and CDC alike clustered and spread out. " ... I suppose I can't blame the government for sending more." He said at last. The man brow suddenly creased with stress and he sighed. "The sixth riot in just six weeks."

The older Winchester nodded. "Looks like a whirlwind hit." He commented as he moved past him, carefully nonchalant. His eyes traveled from blood spatters on the windows to the darker and larger stains on the floor. "This all from four bodies?"

The red-headed marshall nodded. "In all my years, I've never seen anything like this. Ordinary citizens, no history of mental illness or assault, just ... completely snapping." He looked down, gesturing to where a body had been. "One poor girl here got clawed and bit up to the point you'd ... couldn't even recognize her." He shook his head, disturbed. "It's like they all became _animals_."

Dean exchanged a glance with Sam, knowing they had the same sinking feeling in their bellies. Frustration tinged his grimness at this unwelcome walk down Memory Lane. Couldn't his gut instinct ever just be wrong?

"Like some kind of super-hopped up rabies?" Buffy said. The blonde slayer was investigating a clothes rack, touching it delicately. The steel was bent and unnaturally twisted into a pretzel. She looked back at the man, eyes serious. "You said quarantine. Is that what all this is?"

"At first we thought it was PSP. Methamphetimes or just some crazy new drug. But there's no trace in any of their systems. And then the test results for their blood work came back ... the doctors called it inclusive." He explained.

 _Inclusive, huh?_ The hunter knew exactly what doctors had found in these test results ... and as usual, they were trying to keep it under wraps. The beginning of this quarantine spelled it all out in big, black demonic letters.

"Inclusive ... with a quarantine." Buffy sounded skeptical.

The marshall shrugged. "Can't take risks with things like this." He reasoned simply. The man paused and shook his head, troubled. "All I know is somethin' is messing up these people. It's bad and getting badder. God only hope these outbreaks stop soon."

The trio watched as the marshall turned and shuffled away, breaking off to talk with a pair of other feds.

"Well, at least we can skip the weird or not-to weird part." Buffy noted in a light tone, crossing her arms. She glanced at the brothers, suddenly serious. "There's something wrong with this town."

Sam looked uneasy. " ... We don't really know yet for sure, Dean ..."

Dean snorted. "I'm connecting the dots and getting a diagram, Sam."

Buffy watched them closely, expression thoughtful. " ... You guys know what's going on, don't you? I mean, you've faced something like this before."

"You keep forgetting we're the veterans." The older Winchester began, giving her a hint of a teasing smile. Dean turned a very meaningful look on her. "You want a campfire night, we'll _have_ some _stories_."

The Winchester brothers and Buffy continued to investigate the store. They tried to get deeper information out of the CDC and FBI agents, but not with much success. The CDC naturally refused to disclose the full details on victim's bloodwork and FBI agents just went off whatever crap _they_ spouted. Dean and Sam couldn't give away what was really happening, but insisted they run more tests on those who were around the rabid and make sure the whole mall was completely under quarantine. There no fooling around with this case. When they got all they could from the crime scene, they decided the next step was going through survivors, witness, or any crazed living victims to confirm for sure that it was...

"Croatoan?"

Buffy's face was scrunched up in a frown, staring at the solemn brothers when they stood outside the store.

Dean nodded. "Nastiest apocalyptic crap those demons can cook up."

"It's like zombies meets rabies." Sam looked worried. "Everyone's violent, full of rage ... becoming _killers_. And it escalates, fast. The last time we saw something like this, it wiped out an entire town."

"So how did you stop it last time?" The blonde slayer asked.

Sam and Dean exchanged a tense look.

" ... We _didn't_." Dean replied bluntly.

Buffy was rendered silent, frowning in deep concern.

His own words twinged the Winchester's stomach with anxiety and frustration. That was the reason why he hadn't wanted this to be another Croatoan case. There was absolutely nothing he and Sam could do except contain the surviving and kill the infected. There was still hope, sure. This town seemed less far along than that ghost town years ago. But that was one town. In the big picture, Croatoan was a signal for something else. There was only way it would ever happen...

Dean's eyes landed on something. Rigid with tension, Winchester moved slowly and numbly, crouching down as he ran his fingers over it: Sulfur in a slimy and green-goo substance ... a sign of only one thing and thing only.

"That's ..." Sam's tone was tight with apprehension.

Buffy glared fiercely, her mouth set in hard line. " _Labolas_ did this." She said in disgust.

Flashbacks of that Croatoan-filled apocalyptic wasteland in that alternate future he visited flashed behind his eyes. A storm of unpleasant emotion raged on in Dean, but his expression remained cool and grim. " ... Apocalypse _neigh_."

* * *

~~Buffy~~

As the first day in Maine rolled on into four, Buffy and the brothers were knee-deep in Croatoan aftermath. The three of them worked tirelessly, a constant input and output of survivors and witnesses. None of them had spotted a strange green-eyed British man with glasses that might have been Labolas. Buffy had suspected as much. Demons usually never stuck around in the scene of one of their messes, leaving it for _them_ to clean up.

A knot began inside Buffy ever since she heard about Croatoan. In-between their interviewing, Sam and Dean had shared more with her about the deadly virus and their experience with it in the past. The Winchesters seemed graver and even more paranoid, jumpy around every witness or survivor that didn't even show any sign of being infected. This case was clearly personal to them. Slowly and steadily the knot in her tightened, now constricting and she knew it was becoming personal to her too...

Buffy knew she shouldn't be here. She didn't even _belong_ here. This was the brothers' problem, their world, their everything, not hers, and yet ... it still felt like it was. Sam and Dean(?) were her friends, in the middle of this escalating situation. People were dying. So many died because of her. The Slayer in her just couldn't let her walk away ... and the guilt that came from just being Buffy.

There hadn't been any more outbreaks since the one at the mall. The unexpected lack of escalating made her nervous. Whether it was Dean and Sam's apparent apprehension rubbing off on her or her own jadedness, Buffy didn't trust it. It felt more like an silent but deadly lull ... the calm before the storm ...

What happened next only cemented to her that yes, things were about to get very, _very_ worse ...

"So you're saying ... the infection just ... went away?" Sam said in disbelief.

The three of them were at a hospital now with a doctor named Dr. Herndan. They were staring into the fiberglass looking in on a traumatized yet apparently lucid Croatoan victim, holding her legs to herself as her eyes stared unfocused into space.

"That's the third case so far." Dr. Herndan said. He was of his late forties with short, graying, sandy hair. His face crinkled with a frown. "We managed to secure a few of them. Keep them locked up, somehow, and then suddenly ..." He gestured to her, looking at a loss. "No rage, no violence. They all seem ... perfectly normal."

"And you're _sure_ there's not _anything_ left in their blood? It's gone, just poof!" Dean was disbelieving.

"We've performed every test imaginable. Their bloodwork's completely clean." Dr. Herdan said.

"And you're sure they were _infected_?" Sam queried.

Dr. Herdan nodded, his eyes grave. "It's miraculous." The man turned back on his patient, shaking his head. "I can only assume whatever was in these lucky few's blood, their bodies built up some form of immunity."

Dean made a sarcastic sound, cynicism obvious, while Sam simply looked uncertain.

Buffy herself felt cautious. _I thought Croatoan was permanent. Once you're infected, you're doomed ... and isn't this Labolas' strain?_ She thought, even more puzzled. An scary, uber-powerful demon who couldn't spread a disease right?

"Keep them under watch for a couple more weeks, away from everyone else." Buffy stated to the doctor.

Dean scoffed. "A couple weeks? Try a month. Maybe two." Resting his disapproving look on her a second, the older Winchester turned Dr. Herdan. "Take the victims and move them, y'know, to somewhere with high-padded locks and steel walls. They still can't be around people. _No_ one!" His gaze was fixed on Dr. Herdan, stern and meaningful. "Stuff like this, it doesn't just disappear."

Dr. Herdan looked taken aback by Dean's sudden intensity.

Sam nodded in confidence. "It's FBI jurisdiction. We have to _absolutely_ make sure whatever this is doesn't spread."

A bit bothered she had been overruled, Buffy threw Dean a narrowed glare before sighing and turning to the doctor. "You should listen. This is a big no-risk zone."

Dr. Herdan still seemed cautious, but maybe it was the FBI card or that he sensed they knew something he didn't, because he didn't question it. "We'll keep them under observation. We'll find some place out of public ... We'll make sure not to risk any relapse." The doctor reassured.

Nodding at them, Dr. Herdan departed.

Buffy, Dean, and Sam exchanged a look. None knew what to think.

The three of them walked out to the Impala. Dean was shaking his head, muttering, "I don't know why we don't just cap them now. Y'know, before they all _'Hulk'_ out again."

And Riley was _still_ the _only_ non-questionable guy she ever slept with. "You're not capping anyone." Buffy told him, giving a stern look.

"Well, I don't _trust_ it." The older Winchester responded, incredulous. He split his attention to Sam. "We _know_ Croatoan! Once it's in you, it's kill or be killed! That kind of crap doesn't just _go_ _away_."

Sam looked to his brother steadily. " ... It did with me."

"Yeah, and you were half-freak then yourself." Dean replied curtly. Regret swamped his face immediately, realizing what he just said, but Sam already looked hurt. The older hunter sighed. "It's just—well, it-it-it was _different_ , alright? You had demon blood in you. These guys are just regular Joes."

Buffy frowned. " ... Demon blood?"

"Sweetheart. That is one long, _long_ -ass story." Dean said with a shake of his head, looking weary.

The slayer frowned deeper, unsatisfied. She shook it off. "Look, let's just stick with the lock-up plan. Whatever's going on with the Croatia guys, they wouldn't be able to hurt anyone. We need to focus on ones out _here_."

"It's pronounced Croatoan." Sam corrected her absently, deep in his own thoughts. He shook his head. "I don't understand it. Say Labolas _is_ behind this. Why isn't this entire town under already? And why are some victims not infected anymore?"

"Yeah. _Allegedly_ not infected." Dean replied. He shook his head. "No, I am _not_ trusting an _y_ of this. The whole thing's too easy."

"I don't trust it either." Buffy agreed. "Labolas can do things like mess with minds and create force-fields ... but he can't get a dash of viral with a pinch of irreversible in the Croatoan recipe just right?"

Sam shrugged. " _Maybe?"_ He looked at a loss." I mean, isn't Labolas like, _not_ , 'pure'? Maybe that's affecting the virus. Just different things conflicting."

Buffy wanted to believe Labolas couldn't do something other demons could. That meant he had a weakness somewhere. In her gut though, the blonde slayer knew it couldn't be so simple. There was something more sinister here at work. She only wished she knew what it was ... and when it was going to leap out out at them ...

 _ **####**_

Buffy and the Winchesters interviewed the last few other miraculously cured victims and they were just like the first. None showed a sign of ever being infected except trauma. Sam had even hacked into all the medical records back at the motel to confirm their blood work personally and it all came back credible. There was no more sulfur in their blood.

The entire situation perplexed Buffy. Unlike Dean, who still refused to buy that the Croatoan was completely out of their system, Buffy was convinced ... but the question was _why_? Labolas _had_ to have to anticipated this. She couldn't help but think at this point if he absolutely wanted to, this seemingly invincible demon could've reduced this town to ruin. But he didn't. Was there a reason?

She could tell before any words about it were even spoken that Sam and Dean were asking the same question.

" _I_ think he's messing with us." Dean said with conviction. "He gives Portland a half-dose. Lets us think he's got a weakness. Next thing you know, we got a _Tribble_ situation on our hands again."

" _Just_ to mess with us?" Sam sounded skeptical.

"I think he has control over it. The Croatoan." Buffy's gaze narrowed thoughtfully. "He could probably turn this whole town into _Pontypool_ ... but he _isn't._ And if I know my Big Bad stereotypes by now, then he has to have motive behind it."

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, mind games." The hunter repeated, sounding firm on it. "Those crazy non-crazies? _That_ was on purpose. Now they're just the pre-show."

"The teaser ..." Buffy began.

"Teaser to the great, big diabolical plan ..." Dean finished with a nod, grim.

Sam's expression was hard and calculating. "He might be trying to send us a message."

An idea suddenly occurred to Buffy. " ... Or maybe to me." She murmured. At the brother's questioning looks, she went on. "Remember when I said I wouldn't join him? Well, maybe he hasn't taken the hint. Labolas could be trying to lure me out ... _somehow_."

She couldn't say if it was baiting her into working with him or just punishing her for saying no. Buffy didn't know enough about Labolas to know if he was the manipulative type or more vindictive. The possibility unnerved her nonetheless. Dean and Sam were in this too now. She didn't like the idea of endangering them more than usual just by association. Or _this whole town_.

"Don't make everything all about you." Dean rebuked in mock-annoyance. "Labolas could've done this for a _lot_ of reasons." His expression now was more meaningful, as if he could tell what she was thinking.

Buffy wasn't unworried. She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms with a sigh, sulking.

"Well, whatever's going on ... we still need to _figure it out_." Sam said. "There's gotta be more going on with this town. It's not just gonna ... _stop_ , right here."

Dean shrugged. "Well, I know what I'm doin'." He began nonchalantly. "I'm gonna check in our little anger management miracles. Make sure they're taken care of."

"And by _'taken care of'_ , you mean 'locked up someplace that's far and away' and _not_ your favorite shiny, metal alternative, right?" Buffy gave Dean a flat look.

The older Winchester simply snorted in response. Dean-speak for _'It-wasn't-going-to-be-but-I-still-won't-give-you-the-satisfaction.'_

"Well, I do know this. We're not hitching a ride out of this city anytime soon." He redirected, business once again.

A rock seemed to sink down in Buffy's stomach, just a little bit despite herself. She knew how serious this all was and how much danger these people were in ... but she still couldn't help but think about Dawn and her friends and the slayers. What about them? She didn't want to take even longer to go home and maybe the angels were the answer ... but she had to help? She was so conflicted.

Sam nodded. "We need to keep an eye out for any more outbreaks, in this town and others."

The blonde slayer knew what that meant. She repressed a sigh. "So hours and hours of more web-surfing ... or _slay_ -surfing. I think we can make that a sport." She quipped, trying to ease her disappointment.

"Y'know, you spend so much time with us, we might as well have the same room. Pay extra for a _double_ -bed." Dean returned half-jokingly, smirking.

Buffy stared wearily. It wasn't good for her to be around Dean too much either. Even though she made clear what happened between them wouldn't happen again, that didn't stop his flirting. She had tried to keep this "case" thing professional and for the most part it worked ... but it was all still there, in the back of her mind. Vivid, surround-sound. She could already name every one of his smirks ... how'd she get here?

She mustered up her best stern look. "Worlds of _never happening_."

Dean just looked amused.

Buffy rose. "I'm think I'm going to patrol." The words were familiar, but felt weird and sticky on her tongue. She didn't think she had ever patrolled once in this universe.

Both brothers were surprised.

"You don't even know your way around Portland." Sam said.

"It's no big." The blonde slayer gave an off-hand shrug. "I'll check around for anymore signs of the rage craze ... or Labolas." She added, glancing back at them. "He might still be around." She wasn't sure really, but felt too restless and uneasy not to at least check herself. And if he _was_ here and after _her_...

Dean's expression suddenly sharpened. "And if you _do_ run into him?"

Buffy could see the concern in his eyes. "Just a scouting mission. Unless I see him getting with the innocent torture ..." She let her casualness fall away, fixing them both with a meaningful look.

"We don't even know how to kill him yet..." Sam reminded her, worried.

The slayer nodded. "Hence the scouting first part." The Winchester's unease still in the face of her flippance, Buffy repressed a sigh. "It's nothing... Chances are, I'm probably not gonna find him anyway."

She hoped her realism reached to her brothers. Dean still seemed tense. The blonde slayer was just about to turn and leave before the hunter froze her. "What the hell. I'm up for a little reconnaissance." He said suddenly, smoothly nonchalant now as he stood up.

That was _not_ what she planned. "What?"

"We go out there, Sammy stays in here." Dean declared, nodding. He glanced back at his brother. "Keep at it on net for anymore Croatoan. That's your thing anyway."

As Dean started to walk over, Buffy quickly shook her head. "Uh, no. It's okay. I can do this one by myself." She managed to sound normal, but the discomfort in her gut was blowing up like a balloon. She did _not_ want to be alone with the hunter.

Dean paused, looking surprised. "Driving around the Impala, two sets of eyes. Kills time." He replied with all the ease in the world, throwing out his hands. "If you're ever gonna get a good look at _Mulberry St._ ..."

He sounded so reasonable. Frustration clawed at Buffy. " _Believe me_ , I'll get one. I've spent plenty of other times patrolling without a car. Slayer stamina, remember?"

"Oh, I remember, alright." Was that an innuendo or a statement? Both? "I just figure—"

Buffy couldn't handle her emotions anymore. _"No!"_

Dean was shocked into silence this time, taken aback.

Realizing her harsh tone, she made herself calm. "I mean, no. You _really_ don't need to ... just don't worry." She insisted. Facing them seriously, she went on. "It'd just be a quick sweep. I find anything, I'll tell you."

Her emotions shielded behind a brisk and business-like mask, the slayer turned quickly and left.

* * *

~~Dean~~

Dean stared after Buffy, hardly able to do more than blink as she slammed the door behind her.

 _What's gotten into her?_

He couldn't have been _him_. All _he_ did was offer to help her with her "patrol" or whatever she called to call it because ... well, why not? Portland was a big city. Any strangeness Croatoan-style would be easy enough to spot, but it'd be quicker with a car. It was better than sitting in here, researching with Sam. Dean also didn't particularly like the idea of Buffy out alone if there was any chance she'd run into Labolas, but of course she just had to freak out on him.

His brother released a deep sigh. " ... What'd you do, Dean?" Sam sounded weary.

"The hell's that supposed to mean? What'd _I_ do?" Dean snapped.

Sam looked at him, tired and worn yet somehow stern. He sighed again, shaking his head. "Dean ... I _warned_ you. I told you not to let anything between you and Buffy. And now—"

He didn't give him a chance to finish. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait. _That's_ what you think this is?" Dean expressed in outright disbelief, staring incredulously. "Cut her strings, used her, broke her heart?" He was practically choking on his own scorn. He scowled sternly. " _I'm_ the one that just got my helping hand bit off and denied sex for no reason! I'm the _victim_!" He retorted, outraged.

Sam startled. "Wait ... You mean _she_ stopped it?"

Dean nodded curtly. "Put her foot down in steel-toed boots. Couldn't get it out fast enough. _'One-time thing, adios.'_ " Irritation plagued the older Winchester worse. He didn't appreciate that reminder.

The disbelief in his brother's eyes slowly ebbed away. " ... Huh." He finally said, a curious note in his voice.

"What?"

"It's just ... who would've thought you're the one that gets screwed and dumped for a change." There was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

 _"Shut up."_ Dean grumbled, even more aggravated.

"I mean, that's good. She did the smart thing. Broke it off early. Good." He gave an approving nod.

"Yeah. _Terrific_." He muttered, a little bitter. It's not like he wouldn't have done the same sooner rather than later, but not _that_ soon. "I already told you, Sam. Buffy doesn't like me. _I'm_ not the kind of guy she'd like. So instead of turning everything around on me, how about talk about what crawled up _her_ ass?"

"Buffy's been going through a lot lately. Maybe she just needs space."

Dean wasn't sure how he felt about that. He glanced over back at the door. " ... What if Buffy does run into Labolas hanging around in town? You really think she's gonna kick back?" He voiced his private concern.

"She _said_ it's supposed to just be a scouting mission." Though he tried to sound neutral, Dean glimpsed his own worry in Sam's eyes.

 _Yeah, unless he's hurting someone. And what are the chances ..._ Could he hardly blame her though? He knew for damned sure him and Sam would do the same thing, even though taking in everything they heard their chances of surviving long enough to even _get away_ weren't very promising.

"What if it's not?" Dean asked.

Sam was a quiet a long moment. " ... Then it's not. And we just have to hope for the best." The younger hunger said finally. His fixed his gaze on him, firm and meaningful. "Buffy's stronger than us, Dean. Even if the worst does happen, she'll still stand a hell of lot better chance against him than we would."

Dean couldn't help but still be apprehensive. He knew it was true technically. His unreasonable urge earlier to go with her for back-up in case of Labolas was just that, unreasonable. That wasn't the point though. An angel blade couldn't kill Labolas. Buffy would last longer against him, but that didn't mean he wouldn't kill her. And then there was the Croatoan to worry about too which at any second could turn a thousand times worse.

The older Winchester shook his head. "We really gotta to figure out a way to stop him, somehow. That demon's been running around too long."

Even as he spoke he felt the weight on his shoulders again. There was still shutting down Hell that may send Labolas with it, though Dean couldn't say he was as sure anymore it would work. He'd still try. Dean didn't want to believe something couldn't be killed. That went against everything he had been taught and faced. They always a way before ... wouldn't they now?

"We'll keep trying." Sam promised quickly, earnest. "Lore, weapons, _Kevin_ ..."

Dean absorbed that grimly. He forced a shrug. "Well, first thing's first. We gotta save this town."

* * *

~~Buffy~~

Buffy walked through the Portland streets, on edge as she kept one eye on every person she came across. Her sharp gaze scanned the area left and right. Nothing seemed off, but she still anticipated the worst. She knew you couldn't always tell who was infected right away. Everything just felt too quiet, too ... _normal_.

Her patrol was a long and grueling one, taking her well into the night. She tried not to stray too far, not wanting to get lost in this large and unfamiliar city but it was inevitable. She tried to use landmarks to track herself. Too bad she'd never been good at that. Homesickness stabbed her suddenly, missing the familiar bends and graveyards of their Scotland base, but she quickly shoved it away.

 _Maybe I_ should _have taken Dean up on his offer._ Buffy thought. Driving around the Impala would've saved her some restriction at least and while she didn't like to admit it, he was better at navigating unfamiliar territory.

She was starting to regret now her harsh dismissal of him. She knew Dean had only been trying to help. Just because she didn't like to spend too much time around him nowadays didn't give her an excuse to be unfair. They were on a _job_ , after all. Dean didn't seem to care much that they slept together. She should be like that too.

 _It was just 'fun'._

The disappointment she felt at that was followed immediately by frustration. She was _disappointed_? _Why_? Buffy had known from the start what he was. Of course Dean didn't care about what happened between them or feel anything more significant past _'It was fun'_. _That's why I even did it the first place. Distraction without the feelings. Dean's like the definition of convenient._ Dean wasn't the kind of person that would demand anything from her and that had been the point. He wouldn't get too attached. This wasn't another Spike situation. Dean not liking her was good, great even. Best choice all 'round. She should just be _thanking_ him for making it so simple.

The problem with simple though ... was _her_.

She couldn't get close to Dean. Buffy knew that, the second she chose to sleep with him. She had to keep him at an arm's length, for her own sake and he just didn't make that easy. Especially with her spending so much time with them both. Of course she could always just _tell_ him that ... but that wouldn't really remove the problem, would it?

Buffy sighed and shook her head. She had no idea how Faith could just casually sleep around with men and never lose a wink of sleep over it, not liking any of them even a little bit. That was just ... beyond her. _Y_ _ou are_ not _built for this, Buffy. Shame on you._

Dean sleeping with someone like _Faith_ would've been better. At least they would be on the same wavelength.

It would also save Buffy all the 'stupid-confused-teetering-emotional-investment' feelings she's sure Dean hadn't spared even a single thought over.

 _I_ _really_ do _do everything to myself._ The blonde slayer thought ruefully. She repressed another sigh.

Pain stabbed her heart as she couldn't help but think of Spike and Angel again. Why even bother liking anyone ever again after them? After what _happened_ to them? It was her fault they died ... both times. It was better that Dean wouldn't fall for her. All she ever did was hurt the men who loved her ... and all they ever did was hurt her.

Hating the direction her thoughts had wandered, Buffy blocked them out and focused back on the task. As if moving faster meant running away from her own mind, the blonde slayer quickened her pace and delved even deeper into the Portland streets.

Buffy covered miles and miles of Portland traveling from streets to rooftops, no longer caring about where she was as she put her slayer stamina to good use. She soon last track of time. Nothing seemed amiss though among the citizens. It began to stress her. Was this all part of Labolas' plan or had she missed something?

The blonde slayer crouched on the edge of a rooftop, frustrated. Suddenly she stiffened. Straining her ears, shrieks and human screams mixed with sounds of broken glass were coming down from below a short ways away.

Buffy couldn't have shot off faster, half-jumping and half-scrambling down the building. Swinging off a pipe, the slayer landed on the ground in a crouch for only a second before she was racing towards the commotion. Others blurred past her in a flurry of alarm, running the other away and dialing numbers. Dread hit her throat as she came to a broken-down convenience store. The door hung loosely off it's hinges with large holes in the window, littering the ground with broken glass as if someone threw something through it. Blood smeared the windows. The shrieks rang louder.

Inside was utter chaos. Seven were locked in violence, ferociously attacking the other as they tore up the place. Two of them stood by the opened cashier, slamming the other into it as they punched, bit and even clawed at each other. Racks were knocked over and fridges cracked or red-streaked. Four bodies lay already dead on the floor, soaked with blood.

Buffy didn't hesitate, immediately throwing herself right between two of them. She punched one very hard in the face, then quickly grabbed the other, slamming their heads together and knocking them out instantly. The blonde slayer swiftly moved on to others, not wasting time as she tried to suppress the Croatoan tide.

Another fell and then another. It went on and on and Buffy, despite herself, found herself struggling. Pulling a blow she shouldn't have or get a hit landed on her that wouldn't have, even as avoided all attempts to turn her as well. She tried not to think about how these monsters were humans, victims infected by a demon virus, but it was never far from her mind ... even with the blood and killing intent in their eyes.

Pain lanced through Buffy as she slammed into the rack, the metal digging into her back. The Croatoan-nite glared down hungrily, it's gaze filled with bloodlust.

Her mind whirled. _What do I do?_ How could she fight using all her power, knowing these victims were still human? At same time, were they? They were humans infected by a demon sickness. There wasn't any guarantee they would go back to normal like the others. How was that any different than vampires, human infected with demon? Would killing them go against everything that made her who she was ... or was it doing her job?

Suddenly dead demonic vessels flashed before her eyes. Self-loathing wracked slayer, guilt and grief washing over her in fierce tide. She came here to save people, not to kill. To redeem herself for what she had done. Buffy couldn't say she had any answer to her moral question. All she knew was she couldn't take the chance.

 _No. **No more** killing._

Her conscience giving her strength, Buffy grabbed the Croatoan victim by both wrists, stopping it's attempts to strangle her and kicked her in the gut. The blow send the infected barreling straight into another rack, knocking it over and right into another victim. Both collided into a drink and Icee machine, spilling soda and slushi everywhere.

"Come on, guys." Buffy began airily, watching as her attackers lost consciousness. "Who's up for singing _I Feel Pretty_?"

The blonde slayer stiffened, dodging as the last straggling Croatoan came at her from behind with a broken-off pole from a rack. He swung at her again, but this time Buffy caught it and punched him with her free hand. He reeled and she took the pole, hitting him first once in gut and then twice across the face with all the grace and speed being a slayer gave her. It was the final blow that ended him, hearing a loud crunch as he slumped to the floor.

Buffy stood, pole in hand and overlooking the Croatoan victims. Her brow scrunched in worry. _Now what?_

" ... I don't think _I Feel Pretty_ will work for this." She uttered.

Suddenly Buffy tensed. An icy chill crept down the base of her spine. The sound of slow clapping was coming right behind her ... and it was somehow more unsettling then the eerie, dead quiet of the blood-stained store.

"Impressive. A little disappointing, but I do admire your restraint ..." Cold, startling icy-green eyes burned through her as she whipped around to meet it's gaze. "You didn't kill a single one ... Shame it's all a waste since they can't be cured." Labolas stated coolly, his eyes raking over the unconscious.

Fury surged in Buffy and her grip turned white-knuckled on the pole. "... And look who's behind _all_ of this. Demon rabies, boxed and shipped in Labolas brand."

Her body was rigid and stiff with contained violence. Labolas seemed unconcerned, blinking at her calmly. "I found it quite fitting. Nothing is more raw and powerful in sending a message order than sparking anarchy. As C.J Jung once said ... _'In all chaos, there is a cosmos.'"_ The demon sounded wistful.

Buffy only became angrier. "Well, what is _your_ cosmos? Why are you shooting this town up with Croatoan and watching innocent people tear each other apart?"

Labolas paused a long moment, piercing her with his stare. " ... A _revolution_." His expression turned disconcertingly intense. "It's only just begun. It'll get bigger. Grow, little by little ... One day ... _soon_ ..." Labolas trailed off to glance at the bodies, a far-away look gathering in his eyes. " _Everything_ will change."

"Let me guess. Blah blah blah end of the world blah blah human domination blah blah 'I got the power.' The blonde gave a bored look. "You bad guys really need to come up with new stuff."

The old demon looked amused. "Sarcasm hiding fear. Now that _is_ funny."

"You wanna talk about _change_?" Buffy began sharply. "The only thing _changing_ is the wall between me and finding a way to kill you. And if you read _so_ much about me through the Alternate Universe rolodex, you know I _always_ find it."

Labolas smiled indulgently. He gave a small shake of his head. "No, Buffy. Not this time. It's beyond you, I'm afraid."

Unease churned Buffy's stomach, even sharper. Suddenly she was painfully aware of the precarious situation she was in, how any attack right now wouldn't end him. "Why, because of my _'dark future'_?" She spat out the words, raw with derision. "I heard about your _visions_. Gave you all the insight on the battlefield back in the day. Well, what about now? Did you see my future?"

Labolas gazed at her though smug, condescending eyes. " ... Perhaps." He sounded amused. He cocked his head. "Would you like to know it?" His voice was silky and genial, as if he was doing her a favor.

Buffy hadn't known she had been holding her breath. She steeled herself, ignoring the fear fluttering in her belly. "Doesn't matter. 'Cause even if you _did_ see something ... a flash of me and my 'imminent doom', probably with death and a side of apocalypse ... prophecies and me? Flunk material. I _flunk_ them, every time. So really what do _I_ have to worry about?"

Her confident tirade didn't faze the demon. He smirked slowly. "It doesn't matter if you believe me or not, Buffy. The outcome will remain the same."

"Did you _really_ skip over the 'defying-prophecies' part of my biography?" The slayer snarked.

Labolas remained infuriatingly calm. The green-eyed demon shook his head again, tsking. "It's tragic, really. In all my efforts to save you ... to change the course of your future. I did try. But you have made your choice. It is too late now." He stated, actually sounding a bit disappointed.

"Yeah, because you care so much about me." She rolled her eyes. "Is this a fanboy crush? 'Cause if it is, you're not my type. I like 'em with a lot more edge and little less _Revenge of the Nerds_."

"Your words hurt, Buffy. So much judgment ..." Labolas face lit up with exaggerated hurt. "You should understand more than most what I intend to do. You changed your world when you activated every slayer at once. I'm merely using you as inspiration." He explained innocently.

Alarm spiked in the slayer momentarily. _How does he ...?_ Her gaze turned steely. "You and me are nothing alike." She said in disgust.

"Really?" Labolas' intense gaze gleamed. "Tell me then. What is the difference between my work in this town and the death that clings to your slayers through the government?" His normally silky tone was cruel now, cutting. "It's _all_ in the wake of revolution. Painting the world in _our_ own image. Same chaos, same collateral damage ..."

Buffy exploded with anger. She went at the demon with the pole, swiveling it in her grip as she came down hard on his gut. She got one more blow before Labolas grabbed her pole and snapped it in two, punching and shoving her away. The demon tossed the pole aside and rushed her. Buffy was ready though, hitting and deflecting as she tried desperately to match his speed.

Labolas back-handed her. The slayer reeled, the blow enough this time for her to see stars. She collided none too gently into a refrigerator, feeling it wobble and crack behind her. Buffy just managed to dodge his next punch, his fist breaking through the glass where she stood as she ripped off the door of the refrigerator next to him and hit him with it as hard as she could. She felt vindicated as Labolas went flying into a snack rack, destroying it instantly.

Buffy held the door, catching her breath. She glared balefully at the demon on the floor. "Do me a favor. _Never_ talk about me or my slayers or the military ever, _ever_ again."

Labolas rose, laughing as he wiped the blood from his mouth. "Oh, I truly _do_ owe you so much ... Everything." He remarked fondly.

" _I_ owe you this refrigerator door."

Labolas looked gleeful. "... None of this would've happened if wasn't for you." He chuckled suddenly, smirking meaningfully. "Without you ... Miss Summers ..."

The slayer's anger flared. " _Just_ because you got a _Helter-Skelter_ out of me, Manson, does _not_ mean—" She began in contempt.

"You freed me." The old demon said in whisper.

Buffy blanked out. "... What?" His tone jarred something in her. A cold, heavy feeling ...

Labolas paused and the meaning of his face scared her. "I was sealed away ... out of _this_ dimension to somewhere in yours ... for a very, very long time." His gaze was wild and intense. "And then three years ago you activated the slayers. The pure raw magick of that spell was just enough to seep into my prison ... and I was free at last."

Buffy stared, speechless with horror.

"Come now, Buffy. You musn't be so surprised." Labolas chided at the look on her face. He cocked his head. "A highly concentrated burst of magick that powerful spreading all over the world ... surely you had to expect _some_ consequence?" His tone, so innocent and matter-of-fact, twisted the knife only deeper.

Bits and pieces were connecting to the other even as her numb-ridden brain seemed shut down. Everything from his appearance now to his new and rejuvenated powers flooded over her and the slayer knew with a terrible certainty everything he said was true.

Buffy shook her head in denial. It was true. She didn't know how, she didn't know why, but it was true. It was all true.

 _I did this. All the people he's hurt ... every evil thing he wants to do to Dean and Sam's world ... it's because of me._ The slayer was overwhelmed with guilt.

The ancient demon was in front of her before she could even blink. Buffy couldn't react to hit him with the refrigerator door again before Labolas' hand found her throat, squeezing it tight as he slammed her harshly into a pole to the racks and finally the back table. The slayer kicked out against him, pain shooting through her body and desperately needing air as the demon stared coldly down at her.

" _So_ ... since you _freed_ me ...!" The demon punctured slammed her head hard into the table. "I was kind enough to offer you a reprieve. An alternate future by my side. But you chose damnation." Labolas' grip on her neck tightened and Buffy saw blackness a moment. "Now I could still brainwash your compliance. I could twist and bend your mind in ways you couldn't possibly imagine... " There was wild and crazed look in his eye. "Oh, for defiant ones like you it may take more time ... but eventually all you'd know is Labolas, inside and out." Labolas said, his tone cold and dangerously even. He paused, leaning in. " ... But where would be the fun in that?"

The slayer looked up at him through a pain-filled glare, preparing to kick him off again. Suddenly alarms went going off. She managed a look at the window to see a police car and a group clustered around it. Loud shouting and a mix of other voices that sounded like a crowd came from outside. The cops had arrived.

Labolas had noticed as well. He looked down at her again and leaned even closer. He gave an indulgent smirk. "I _could_ kill you now, Buffy ... but I won't. I don't have to. It will all work itself out soon enough." The demon stated meaningfully, voice soft.

Suddenly he released her. Buffy gasped for air and sat up. The slayer watched as Labolas walked away, opening up a portal with a wave of his hand.

"Death and chaos, Buffy. " Labolas called to her, not looking back. "That's what we both are. _Always_."

He disappeared into the portal.

Buffy could only sit and stare after, stricken. Numbly, she numbly jumped off the table. She stood there a moment, oblivious to the commotion outside and everything else going on around her.

A gunshot pierced the air. The blonde slayer stiffened in alarm, snapping out of it and looking to the back door.

Instead of the cops, it was Sam and Dean. Their expressions were hard and grim. Buffy quickly looked around and just barely caught one of the Croatoans she had knocked out earlier fall to the floor behind her, a newly-formed bullet hole in his head.

"Did you kill _any_?" Dean said sharply.

Buffy didn't respond. She only stared at them exhaustedly.

A look of sheer frustration was on Dean's face. He jerked his head sharply to Sam and she watched as they took out the rest of the unconscious Croatoans one-by one. Buffy tried not to flinch at the sound of every gunshot, unable to look as they did their cold and efficient work.

 _ **####**_

Buffy and the Winchesters snuck out the back door just as the cops finally stormed in. No explanation, not even their posing as FBI, could've been enough to explain the scene inside. They drove through the streets. It seemed that, still, the Croaotan virus was strangely contained. Sam and Dean had only known what had just happened because it had already been on the news.

It wasn't much longer before they were close to the motel. Dean pulled into the driveway, turning the wheel so suddenly and sharply Buffy added whiplash along with cuts and bruises. He and Sam were already getting out of car before she could ask questions. Not that she needed to.

Dean slammed the car door shut. "You should've killed them."

He was angry and she couldn't blame him. Buffy forced herself to meet his eyes. " ... I know." She said, weary.

"Why _didn't_ you?" Sam was staring at her, mystified.

Guilt of a different kind settled on her shoulders. She looked away. "They were human ..."

"They _aren't_ human! Not anymore." Dean snapped harshly. "They're Croatoan. You kill them, they're dead, end of story."

 _It's not that simple._ The blonde thought wearily. "I didn't know if there was a chance they could've turned back to normal like the ones in the hospital did." In hindsight, they had been a lost cause. Labolas had made it clear that batch's Croatoan infection was permanent.

"Yeah. Yeah, you _didn't_ know." The older Winchester rebuked, an edge to his voice. "You _don't_ let things like that walk, okay? _Ever!_ If me and Sam hadn't shown up when we did, it could've gotten you and gotten somebody else."

"Buffy. It's a _plague_. People can get _infected_. _You_ could've." Sam was just as stern.

"I know that!" Buffy said in frustration, feeling distressed. She was too overwhelmed with everything that happened today. She shook her head. "I just—I couldn't just _kill_ them when we actually saw a few of them turn back somehow. It'd be wrong."

 _"Wrong?"_ Dean was indignant. "We're stopping them now before they turn this whole town into killers. We're saving _lives_!"

The blonde slayer stared at him levelly. " ... Wrong for _me_." She clarified. A fresh wave of sadness and accountability pricked Buffy's heart and she lowered her eyes, gaze shadowed. "I just can't risk being responsible for the death of another innocent person. I _won't_."

Sam paused empathetically. Even Dean softened a bit, glancing at his brother with a weary look.

The older Winchester sighed. "The demons weren't your fault." The hunter sounded tired now, all of the anger just drained out of him.

Buffy felt bleak. _It's more than that._ So much more. Labolas burned in her mind and the shame and grief of his devastating revelation clung to her all over again.

Finally the blonde slayer turned to them, her eyes dark and sad. " ... There's something I need to tell you."

 _ **####**_

Buffy sat limply on the bed in the brother's motel room, shoulders slummed and staring at nothing in particular. Sam and Dean clustered close around her now, uncomfortably silent. Tension seemed to radiate every corner of the room. She had known telling them about her meeting with Labolas and what he told her wouldn't be easy, but actually doing it was ten times worse. She didn't feel particularly inclined to look them in the eye.

"So ... a revolution?" Sam finally said.

Out of everything she had just told them, that was the first thing he said? She gave a rueful nod. " _'Painting the world in his image'_ ... all Pink Floyd and The Brick in the Wall." The pun was a bad one, but right now she couldn't care less.

The younger Winchester nodded. "... That's what the demon tablet was talking about all along. Labolas wanting world domination." A deep frown of unease was on his frown.

Dean sighed. "So Apocalypse Take 3 a guarantee now, huh?" He remarked wearily. He shook his head. "God, I hate friggin' _prophecies_."

Buffy's distress grew as she listened. Waves of guilt pulsed out of her one after the other. "... This is all my fault. Labolas was _sealed away_. If I hadn't activated all those slayers all at once, he never would've gotten free." A sharper pang jabbed her suddenly and she shook her head, face crumbling a bit. "Everything that's happening here is happening because of me." She said despairingly.

There was another pause. She could guess what they were thinking. Buffy was so ashamed she couldn't even bear to look at them.

"Buffy—"

The blonde hardly heard Sam. "Labolas was supposed to be my world's problem. He was _sealed_ there. I was the one that broke it. But he came here."

Dean sighed. "Hey, look—"

"I'm the reason all this happened. I did this." Buffy reiterated painfully, hating herself. She had failed again. She had started an apocalypse in a world that wasn't even her own ... and somehow that was _worse_.

"No, you _didn't_." The adamant tone in Dean's voice caught her by surprise. "Your witchy friend _Glinda_ did. If we're gonna blame _anyone_ here—"

Buffy shook her head. "Wil didn't do this. Yeah, maybe she casted the spell ... but I was the one that gave her the blueprints. It was my idea." Guilt cut through her once more and she shook her head. "God, this is _my_ fault."

Neither of the brothers said anything, staring at her with intense and difficult to read expressions. They looked at each other.

"It's alright." Sam said. He nodded and blinked at her reassuringly. "You didn't know the spell you did would let Labolas out and if you did, you wouldn't have. You didn't want any of this to happen, we know that."

Dean shrugged. "Hey, you didn't know. You didn't know and ... apocalyptic crap happened. You are not the first." He responded, meaningful.

The slayer stared in shock. How were they being so forgiving? "People are dead because of me." She argued. _Like those possessed people ... the slayers ... Spike ... Angel ..._ The mistakes flew through her mind one by one and each regret only added onto her pain.

"People are dead because Labolas is a douchebag with double-shots of douchery. _He's_ the one to blame for this." Dean said, a hint of sternness in his voice.

Sam nodded. "You can't punish yourself for what Labolas does. Besides ... he's technically still a demon from _our_ universe. If anything, the one dealing with him _should_ be us." He reasoned.

 _How are they okay with this?_ Buffy was in complete disbelief. They should be punishing her, blaming her. She started an _apocalypse_.

"I just jump-started _your_ apocalypse— _not_ mine—and you're givng me the all-clear?" Buffy expressed incredulously.

Dean shrugged again. "Yep."

Sam nodded. "Dean said it ... You're definitely not the first." There was exhaustion in his voice, like it was an understatement.

The blonde still didn't get it, but she was too burnt out emotionally to dwell on it. She couldn't accept their forgiveness though. There was no excuse for what she had caused. It wasn't her world, but it still had people and every person that died in this was on her. The guilt that had been eating at her for three years had only gotten worse and worse with no end in sight. Buffy wasn't sure how much longer she could take it. There was too much collateral damage ... too many mistakes ... a constant new addition to the list of things she'll never forgive herself for ...

Buffy sighed. " ... Labolas disappeared into a portal. I don't know if he's still gonna be in town."

"He seems like the type to just leave his messes for everyone else. He's probably long gone." Sam said.

Dean snorted. "Doubt it. Guy think he's invincible. Why _wouldn't_ he wanna stay and watch the show?"

"If he is still here, you _stay away_ from him." Buffy stated, flashing them both a stern look.

Sam shrugged and shook his head, a resigned expression on his face. "We can't leave. Not with what's going on in this town. And if Labolas is still here ... we'd need to figure out why."

Dean nodded. "We might not be able to do too much jack about the case. At least we could get dirt on him."

"I think I got that in the introductions." The blonde slayer rebuked. She stood up and glared at them meaningfully. "If you find him at all, you _stay away_. He could kill you."

"Yeah, so can a lot of things." The older Winchester replied, dismissive. "We ain't looking for a fight. But if with all the crap he's been doing in this place, we won't exactly be able ignore him either. Now's not the time to 'play it safe'."

Buffy's stress and frustration grew. "We can get information on him, fine. But you're _not_ fighting him." She berated fiercely. "You don't know how to kill him. Golden rule in this gig is to stay away from monsters you don't know how to kill!"

"We know!" Dean retorted. "It's just kinda hard to keep it that way when he's running the whole damn town!"

Sam expelled a patient breath. "Buffy, we—don't want to fight him yet, alright? But it's not that simple. If we run into him ..."

"If you run into him, you're running. No sneak attacks, no fighting to the death. You leave and you get gone." The slayer regarded them now with just as much authority as she did with the Scoobies and the slayers.

"Excuse me?" Predictably Dean didn't like her tone.

But Buffy was done playing along with his de-facto leader act. "I can't let Labolas get the chance to kill anyone else."

"Oh, so it's only okay if it's _you_?" The older Winchester said scornfully.

The slayer's stress was at it's pinnacle. She glared at him. " _Yes!_ I'm the one who has powers. I can take him." The words left her mouth because she could think and she knew she'd regret it later, but all she cared about right now was protecting them.

"And that just makes you such a special snowlake, doesn't it?" Dean began cuttingly. The hunter was furious. "Powers aren't everything. No, let me rephrase that. Powers aren't worth jack squat. Me and Sammy, we made it this long. Now we might not have powers ... but we sure as hell did a lot of good without it!" He fixed her with an angry and stern stare. "You don't know how to kill him yet either. You fight him, you'd be goner, just like we would."

Buffy stared between the brothers, feeling anxious and chastised. She had been out of line, but still none of it mattered. A pit began to form in her stomach. _They just don't_ _understand!_

"You face him now, you die! No one else is dying!" She said adamantly. _Because of me._ She added silently. The pit in her stomach seemed to widen.

"Buffy. We can't just ... do nothing." Sam faced her, earnest. "We can't kill Labolas ... but we aren't gonna hide from him either. Too much is happening. We need to do _something_."

Dean still looked fierce. "You aren't the _boss_ of us." He stated, a challenge in his voice. "Labolas is up to something in this town and we aren't gonna kick back. And if we die, we die. Whatever."

A deep nerve was struck. Finally Buffy's emotions overloaded her. Anger, guilt, desperation, grief. It all became too much. She shook her head furiously, overwhelmed. "Spike! Angel! Just listen ...!"

She registered her words too late. Buffy's eyes turned as wide as saucers, speechless with shock. _Did I just..?_

Dean and Sam had been rendered silent. They just stared at her now, perplexed.

Pain only pricked her sharper, but she was still mortified. Desperately she tried to save face. She glared at them. "Just stay away from Labolas, okay?! No matter what."

Desperate to escape the situation, Buffy had already turned her back and was leaving the room.

The slayer paused just outside the door and processed, upset. Out of everything she could've said out of all the complex layers of her guilt, it had to be that.

Pain and regret siphoned through Buffy as she remembered Angel and Spike ... both of them who laid down their lives for the same reason Dean and Sam were right now. And it was all her fault.

Buffy leaned heavily against the door and closed her eyes, overwhelmed. Everything hit her. The dead slayers, government manhunt, Angel, Spike, dead vessels, and now an apocalypse.

 _Labolas said all I am is death and chaos ... what if he's right?_

* * *

 **A/N:** **... So? So sorry for the wait, but I hope it was worth it. I delivered a lot of plot, just like I said! :) I always loved the Croatoan-focused episodes in Supernatural because they always felt really apocalyptic with high stakes, but I don't want to make it exactly like those ones either. Plus it was interesting to put Buffy in this the kind of situation because SPN itself is so morally gray. I hope I'm depicting Buffy in-character in that area. She's struggling and being challenged, but she's not changing (yet? ... We'll see lol).**

 **I didn't overdo it because I had to move the plot, but we did get some unexpected Dean/Buffy fluff in the beginning! :3 I love their relationship, but it's definitely a subtle one. Their dynamics are still early, but Dean will never be too mushy or romantic with Buffy like other people write him to be. I just don't think that's him, especially this older version who's been through Hell and Purgatory. Dean's hard to write in romance. He isn't really in touch with his feelings (or honestly Buffy's), but I do what I can with him lol.**

 **The Buffy/Sam moment in this was cute. They will have more of a special relationship (like I said, IMO they're both her types and she's both theirs), even though is Buffy/Dean. In all honesty I actually think Sam would be a better choice for Buffy because Dean just has so many issues and Dean and her are a little too alike sometimes which can cause more problems, but I kind of have a thing for the more difficult ships. ;)**

 **The mystery of Labolas is finally starting to unravel a bit. I'm not done with him xD, but at least a few big questions were answered. Buffy's dealing with a lot of guilt in this fic. A lot happened in those 3 years. As the story goes on, more will be revealed why she's feels so bad over the dead slayers. I said before Angel and Spike will also have a silent presence, as you can see now. ;) While this is a Buffy/Dean fic, for my Spuffy and Bangel shippers justice will be done to both ships.**

 **NEXT CHAPTER:** Dean, Sam, and Buffy continue to deal with the fallout in the Croatoan-infected town. Things take a turn for a worse though and soon the trio finds themselves in fight for their lives...

 ** _Thanks for the 95 favorites, 155 follows, and 84 reviews!_**


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